Diamond Flask
by LucyCrewe11
Summary: Lucy leaves home, a small cottage in Ettinsmoor, and comes to Narnia along with her strong-willed mother, Helen. Little does she know they will eventually find themselves in the household of the infamous Lord Pevensie... Lucy/Edmund Caspian/Susan AU.
1. Beggars from Ettinsmoor

**AN: This is going to be very AU. Pairings to be used in this fic are: Edmund/Lucy and, later on, Caspian/Susan. I'd explain the plot here but I'm hoping the story will sort of speak for itself. **

"Do you smell that, child?" Helen asked her daughter, Lucy, as she leaned into the chilly early morning wind and inhaled deeply.

Lucy was too busy blowing on her numb, red-from-cold, and slightly chapped hands to answer. She was simply exhausted and the simple act of huffing on her nipped limbs felt strained.

Helen might have scolded her if she had actually been listening, expecting an actual answer but since she was too caught up in relief and excitement to bother, all she said was, "That is the lovely air of Narnia."

"Is it any warmer here in the afternoon, mum?" Lucy asked, peering up at her mother hopefully, stuffing her hands into the folds of her tattered black dress.

"Goodness, yes!" Helen exclaimed, as though shocked that Lucy didn't already know that. "It's only a nippy autumn morning, is all." She shook her head. "Dear Aslan, child, even now it's nicer here than it ever was in Ettinsmoor-accursed icy land mine which we were forced to call home! Rejoice my daughter, we are free!"

Lucy didn't quite see it that way. In Ettinsmoor, it had been cold and unpleasant but at least they'd had a small two roomed cottage to live in and decent food to eat. Now, they'd run out of supplies having not had enough time nor the recourses to pack quite the amount needed for the whole trip to Narnia. She was absolutely starving and although they were in Narnia now, they were still a good distance from any houses which meant-shudder-more walking on sore, blistered, feet.

All the same, she had to admit the forest they were edging along was very beautiful. It had a quiet sort of green stillness to it, shimmering like thousands of large emeralds in the morning sunlight. And this _was_ Narnia after all; the place she had been told of her whole live. Where Mum had been brought up. Where the awesome Aslan often came to visit.

She'd heard of the great Lion and thought it would be wonderful to perhaps meet him someday. It was too bad that there was no record of him ever coming around Ettinsmoor. Still, many times she'd gazed into icy ponds, her eyelashes heavy with snowflakes, watching the golden sun come over the white hills and holding her breath. For it might, just that once, not have truly been the sun at all. Maybe it could have really been him; Aslan the Lion, King of the beasts, Narnia's lord coming over the hills.

"Are you lost in your fancies again, my girl?" Helen sighed with a somewhat aggravated air. "If you can't dream and keep up at the same time, save your dreams for when we are comfortable at your Uncle Harold's house, next to a warm fire with food in our stomachs."

Lucy nodded and moved her feet with a little more vigor. "Mum?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Is Uncle Harold's house, is it...near?" She didn't know how much longer she could keep walking now and thought she might collapse at any given moment.

"No, we need to reach the town first." Helen said shortly, more to keep her pace than because she was cross.

"Then can't we rest?" Lucy pleaded, trying to ignore the burn of a blister as it burst open. "I'm so tired."

"Good, if you focus on how tired we are than you cannot have enough thoughts left over for how hungry we will be when we do come to a stop." Helen said practically.

Why did father have to die? Lucy thought to herself, he worked in Ettinsmoor, in the hills, and we had enough to eat then. There was no talk of leaving, not even for this wonderful place, back in those days. Now mum was too poor to buy fish from the traveling vendors and we have to come all this way to find her brother. He can't have seen her in many years; supposing he doesn't remember us and wont take us in?

Lucy shuddered and her stomach growled. Harold would have to take them in, wouldn't he? Had not mother always told stories about the two of them playing happily as little children? He couldn't really have forgotten the sister of his youth, surely not!

An hour later, when Lucy was nearly sleeping and walking at the same time, she felt a light pinch on her left arm.

"Open those eyes, Daughter." Helen ordered, dragging her towards a cobblestone path. "Look, the town!"

"Oh!" Lucy exclaimed happily, nearly bringing her cold hands together and clapping in her excitement.

"Now, if only I knew exactly where Harold lived..." Helen mused, reaching up and rubbing the side of her nose contemplatively.

Lucy's face fell. "You mean you don't know?"

"Of course not!" Helen snapped. "This is on such awful short notice after all, isn't it?"

"Couldn't we have written to him?" Lucy blurted out without thinking her words through. "And then he could have..."

Helen glared at her daughter and Lucy cringed, half-expecting a slap across the face for her insolence. Then her expression softened just a little and she shook her head.

"We'd have starved, just waiting for him to get the letter and to take the time to write us back, I explained it to you long before."

"I know, mum." Lucy hung her head shamefully. "I'm just so awfully tired, is all."

Helen nodded. "We both are, dear." She sighed and looked around at the large beautiful brick houses remembering her younger childhood years. "Oh, how it all comes back!"

"What shall we do now?" Lucy yawned into the palm of her hand.

Taking some pity on her daughter, Helen said, "You can find a comfortable spot to wait for me in the market place, I'll ask around about Harold's whereabouts and you just sit there and rest up, alright?"

Lucy was so happy she thought she might faint from sheer joy. Oh, to sit down and rest without moving for a little while! Maybe even a short nap!

"Now, the market place is down that way." Helen went on, pointing Lucy in the right direction. "Don't speak to anyone on the way, don't linger, and don't go off with anyone."

"I wont, mum." Lucy promised.

"I mean it, Lucy." Helen said firmly. "I don't care what they say. Even if they say they know Harold, or that I sent them, you are to wait right there until I myself come back and get you, is that understood?"

"Yes." Lucy assured her. "But mum, who would come for me? Do poor people ever get kidnapped?"

Helen thought it over. "You may have a point there, child."

Lucy smiled weakly.

Her mother patted her on the cheek lightly. "That's a smart girl, now get going and do watch for traffic."

As Lucy walked down the wide, beautifully paved, roads and alleyways she admired all of the pretty carvings on the side walls and door knockers of the houses she passed. Heeding her mother's warning, she took care not to linger in any place and to keep her feet moving.

One of the grandest houses on the street, had such perfectly polished bricks that it seemed to fairly glisten in the light of the sun as it rose higher, closer to mid-day now. What Lucy liked the best of this house was that it had large bay-windows with little clasps designed to look like lions heads holding it shut.

Gazing up at the window that over looked the lane closest to the market-place, Lucy noticed a lily-white hand lifting the lion-clasp and sliding the window open. There, taking in a breath of the now comfortably cool air, was the most strikingly beautiful lady Lucy had ever seen.

She was fair-skinned with long black hair and such delicate facial features that she seemed to be more of a work of art than a person.

What was most surprising about the beautiful girl was that she herself couldn't have been so very much older than Lucy was (nine years old, almost ten). Only a few years, surely she was no more than an adolescent. She peered out at Lucy curiously for a moment before there was a voice from inside the house and a knock on the door in the room behind her.

"Susan!"

The girl-Susan-leaned back from the window and told whomever was there to go away.

The person behind the door said something back which Lucy could not understand because it was in old Narnian and although she had learned to speak both Narnian and English from infancy, it had always been the modern terms because her practical mother thought old flowery verses would never come in handy. And of course, English was what the first Queen of Narnia, Helen, whom Lucy's mother was named after, had spoken.

Susan shut the window and fastened the clasp with a heavy sigh, drawing the thick curtains behind her.

Realizing that she had been lingering, however unintentionally, Lucy dashed into the market place as quickly as possible to make up for lost time.

As soon as she was in the mist off all the hustle and bustle, Lucy felt rather faint. All of the rich smells of breads and fruits and fish for sale made her mouth water. If only she could afford just a little something; she hadn't eaten a thing for nearly two days now. She thought about begging for a throw away scrap from one of the venders but then the image of her mother's scowling face popped into her head. She would be furious if either of them were to be seen begging on their first day in Narnia. Wouldn't it be wonderful if Aslan himself came into the marketplace and gave her something to eat?

Trying very hard not to cry from yearning both for the unknown Aslan and for food, Lucy took a seat in a reasonably comfortable corner than none of the vendors were using and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for her mother to return.

Just then, she noticed a dark-haired boy a year or two older than herself whistling as he walked passed her. There was something about his manner and the fact that he was-to her taste at least-rather handsome that made Lucy actually smile at him in spite of her exhaustion.

He noticed her smile, returned it, and winked at her.

She felt her cheeks flush; no boy had ever noticed her before. Not even in a friendly way. In Ettinsmoor, she was just that dirty cottage-wench who's mother shooed the husky dogs and wolves off the broken porch with a big stick and all of the children, boys and girls alike who lived close enough to know her, made her a sort of mean joke amongst themselves.

Maybe, Lucy thought hopefully, we can be friends; that boy and me. I know I look like a street ragamuffin, what with my crummy dress and all that, now but after I move in with uncle Harold, surely I'll make lots of friends here.

Suddenly without warning, a street vendor ripped over her slightly-out-stretched foot and dropped a basket of bread onto the ground. The cobblestone was so clean you could practically lick it and yet not taste much dirt but that didn't seem to make much difference to the vendor.

"You stupid girl!" He bellowed loudly, making quite a scene, thrusting the empty basket at her upper leg. "Look what you made me do."

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..." Lucy's eyes filled with tears. Wouldn't mother be so terribly disappointed in her when she heard about this? She scrambled to the ground to help him pick up some stray rolls.

"I'll teach you to ruin my produce for a whole day's wage!" He lifted his hand about to hit her.

Lucy let out a whimper, cringed, and prayed it would be over quickly.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on that girl!" A more pleasant, kinder voice from near-by said.

Looking to the left of the angry bread-man, was a tall blond boy with blue eyes about a year older than the girl she had seen in the window earlier. He looked furious, but with the vendor, not with Lucy.

The vendor flushed red with embarrassment. "Good day, Master Peter."

"I came to buy some bread but I see you are too occupied beating helpless children to sell." He said through his teeth, glaring at the vendor. "Perhaps I'll shop else-where from now on."

The vendor apologized and hastily sold Peter some bread in spite of the fact that it had been on the ground a few moments earlier.

"Thank you for your kindness." Lucy bobbled an awkward curtsey. The vendor had called him, _Master_ Peter that must mean he was the son of an important Narnian lord.

Peter waved it off and gave her a concerned half-smile. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, sir." Lucy said timidly as her stomach let out an unpleasantly loud growl.

Peter took out a roll and held it out to her. "Here."

"No thank you." Lucy said politely.

"Why not?" He asked gently. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Well, yes." Lucy had to admit. "But my mum will be angry with me for begging on our first day here."

"You aren't begging, I'm just giving it to you." Peter pointed out.

"If you put it that way..." Lucy couldn't resist any longer; she reached out and snatched the bread away from him, swallowing it in only two bites.

"By the Lion!" Peter gasped, reaching out and touching her shoulder compassionately. "When did you last eat?"

"A day or so ago." Lucy told him.

"You poor thing." He looked so genuinely worried that Lucy almost felt like crying as he handed her another roll. "Here."

She swallowed that one more slowly than she had inhaled the first.

"I'm Peter Pevensie, what's your name?"

"Lucy." She said.

"Is someone coming for you?" Peter asked before turning to leave. "I mean, will you be alright?"

"Mum's coming, then we're going to stay with my uncle." Lucy explained. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait with you?" Peter offered.

"Yes." Lucy nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Master Peter!" A breathless-voiced faun wearing a red muffler on his otherwise clothing-less half-goat, half-man body, came rushing towards them.

"Tumnus, what's wrong?" Peter asked him.

"Your father, Lord Pevensie, sent me." He said as soon as he had caught his breath. "We need you at home."

"What did she do now?" Peter groaned.

Lucy wondered what 'she' he meant.

"Locked herself in her room and refuses to come out." Tumnus sighed.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll be right there." He looked back at Lucy. "Be safe now, alright?"

She nodded, settling back into her corner to wait for her mother some more.

Shortly before twilight, Helen arrived and told Lucy that after asking around she had finally found out where the Harold Scubb's house was and that they were to set off for it at once.

It was only three streets away from the market-place and as soon as Lucy noticed the warm-looking gray-brick home, she felt her sprits lift. They would have supper tonight. Maybe Harold would even serve dessert! She hadn't had a real pastry in a very long time. She liked sticky buns the best although cream-puffs were good, too.

Standing tall with purpose, Helen lifted the brass knocker on the door and slammed it up and down twice.

A sour-face woman answered. "Hullo?"

"Is Harold there?" Helen asked.

"My husband has been dead for nearly two years now." The woman said shortly. "And he wouldn't have conversed with beggars at all during his life, so away with you at once."

A boy about a year younger than Lucy came and stood by his mother's side. "Who's the girl in the crummy dress, Alberta?"

"She is your cousin." Helen told him, stretching out her hands toward her nephew. "Harold was my brother, please welcome back what is your own."

"Oh, get away, you things!" Alberta hissed meanly. "Do get!"

"But I am your family." Helen protested.

The boy stuck out his tongue at Lucy.

"Shut the door, Eustace." Alberta said. "They are no family of mine. only beggars."

Eustace closed the door in their faces.

"Well!" Helen spat angrily at the closed doorway, grabbing onto Lucy's hand and leading her down the stairs.

"What now, Mum?" Lucy held back the hot tears of disappointment that sprang up into her eyes.

Helen gulped, forced to let go of her pride. "We must beg for charity."

And so, all that night, huddled up in the little ragged shawls-one of the few things they owned-they went from door to door asking for shelter and a bit of food. Most people turned them away. A kinder soul or two tossed a slice of bread or a small piece of fish to them but still refused to let them into their houses.

Then, when all hope seemed lost and Lucy thought they would have to crawl up and sleep in an alleyway, a familiar face appeared in a doorway.

Lucy gasped when she saw him. Why, it was the boy who had winked at her in the marketplace.

Looking passed Helen, he noticed her. "Why, it's you!"

Lucy nodded and then sneezed.

"Come in," He held the door open a little wider. "I'm Edmund, by the way."

**AN: So whatja think? Should I go on with the story? Please review!**


	2. The Scholarly Swordsmen

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter and told me to keep going with the story. I hope you like this one as well. **

The inside of the house was sort of dingy-looking. Although it was in fact a very nice building in itself, it didn't appear well-maintained in the least. The pale yellow paint was peeling from the cracked dust-covered walls, lop-sided tables stood on only three legs in several of the corners, and none of the chairs had any cushions.

Helen turned up her nose slightly, showing mild signs of deep displeasure that only Lucy, who knew her mother well enough to read her expressions, noticed.

The only glittering nice-looking things in the room was a large collection of swords and shields. They were of all shapes and sizes and colours. Some with gold, others with silver. Some with diamonds on the hilt, others with simple crystal or plain red stones. They were all piled in heaps beside the chairs and covering the tables.

"Wait here." Edmund told them, walking into the other room.

"Do you know that boy, Lucy?" Helen whispered to her daughter.

"Only from the marketplace, mum." Lucy said innocently.

Helen frowned at her. "I thought I told you not to speak with anyone."

"Oh, but I didn't speak with him." Lucy explained in a hushed tone. "I only _saw_ him there."

"I wonder why he remembers you." Helen knew her daughter was no great beauty, especially not in the travel-worn clothing she had on. "Are you certain you didn't say anything to him? Or did he speak to you?"

"Not a word." Lucy said truthfully, deciding not to mention the way he'd smiled and winked at her. "He was only passing by."

"You do have a distinctive face, I suppose." Helen decided, having to be satisfied with Lucy's answer for now. "If it gives us a place to stay tonight and food to eat, then whatever it is he likes about you can't be all bad."

Feeling rather stupid and goose-like from being interrogated, Lucy turned her attention back to the doorway that led into the other room and gasped when she saw a tall elderly white-haired man smoking a pipe come out and stare hard at them.

"Good sir, is this your household?" Helen asked, lowering her head respectfully but not taking her eyes off of the man even for a second, hoping to gain some sort of pity.

The man laughed and Lucy felt relieved seeing that he was friendly and didn't appear likely to toss them back out onto the streets. "Depends on what you mean by household, madam." He motioned over to Edmund who had re-entered the room behind him and was now smiling over at Lucy again, making her blush terribly.

"Do you jest with beggars before you throw them out?" Helen asked in a tone that was both cautious and forceful at the same time.

"I mean simply that it is just me and my grandson living here." The old man explained, placing a caring hand on Edmund's shoulder. "Not much of a household, eh?"

"Then have you the means to take in two more?" Helen said bluntly.

Oh Mum, the things you say! Lucy thought, feeling somewhere between proud and embarrassed for her mother's boldness.

"We are the scholarly swordsmen." The old man introduced them. "I make swords and study on the side." He nudged Edmund forward. "The boy's going to follow in my footsteps, better yet, he'll be a knight one day."

Helen noticed the way Edmund kept looking over at her daughter and out of desperation blurted out, "She'll be of a marriageable age quite soon."

Lucy nearly hated her mother at that moment. _I'm only nine, mum! _

Edmund fake-coughed to choke back a laugh, glancing over at his grandfather with a amused expression; clearly they were enjoying teasing their visitors.

Helen leaned close to her squirming daughter and hissed in her ear, "First we eat and sleep, _then _we tell them to stick it where the sun doesn't shine, understand?"

Humbled, Lucy nodded quickly and then lowered her head.

"Good, then stand still, will you?" She gave her a slight pinch on the arm to make Lucy hold herself up straighter.

"Alright, enough merriment." The old man decided. "Simply put, the situation is this: I, Digory Kirke and my grandson, Edmund, haven't got much time for house work as you can see..."

Lucy focused her gaze on a chair which she suspected was a much darker colour under the layer of dust that covered it, she could believe that.

"And neither of us likes to cook." He went on. "So, if you and your daughter are willing to work here-as well as in our shop next door-for us, we will provide you with food, clothing, and shelter. Now how does that sound?"

"It sounds workable for the time being." Helen said shortly, masking her relief.

"Well then come this way and eat with us." Digory Kirke told them, leading them to a narrow archway half-covered with a rust-red pus-yellow curtain.

As Lucy walked under the curtain, she tripped and accidentally knocked part of it out of its brass holder, causing an avalanche of dust to fall on her head.

Ugh, thought Helen, looking at her dusty daughter and then up at the fallen curtain, it's not rust-red after all, I'll be darned if it isn't actually bright scarlet under all that ash.

Edmund started laughing until he noticed Lucy scowling at him and sneezing by turn.

"Where's the table?" Helen wanted to know.

All that was in the arched room was a long blanket and several mustard-stained cushions.

"We don't have one, Lady who has not even graced us with her name yet." Digory raised an eyebrow at her. "We reline when we eat."

"Amen!" Edmund added supportively, taking a seat on his usual cushion.

"It's Helen." Helen said, trying to hide her disgust as Edmund started lifting a cover off what she now realized must be their supper. "And my daughter is called Lucy."

Digory looked surprised. "Where did you say you were from?"

"Ettinsmoor." Lucy told him.

"Not the regular Ettinsmoor names, eh?" He looked at them somewhat suspiciously. "Not that I care if you're liars, I'll take whatever help I can get."

"I am originally from Narnia." Helen explained, keeping her rather fast-growing out-rage at bay for the moment. "And Lucy's father was from Archenland before taking up a job in the northern mines."

"More time for chit-chat later, now you must be hungry." Digory smiled at them, seeming pleased that they were more or less Narnian in race.

"Oh, thank you!" Lucy started to rush over to the supper spread which Edmund was already eating without waiting for the rest of them.

Helen grabbed her daughter by the back of the dress. "Lady-like steps, not rushing bull, we are not gutter persons."

"Yes, mum." She said, ignoring her growling stomach and forcing herself to walk as slowly over to the reclining cushions as she could manage.

Helen walked almost on tip-toes and sniffed the food rather self-righteously before eating it. Lucy worried that Digory and Edmund might be offended but the amused glances and chuckles they kept gracing their new help with reassured her that they were too easy-going to get worked up over prissiness.

After a good supper of fish and flat bread, Edmund let out a burp so loud that Helen put her hand to her heart. "Good Lions alive, boy-I mean, Edmund, what _do _you say after that?"

"Must have been a barge coming through." Edmund winked at Lucy.

Lucy burst out laughing.

"Do _not_ laugh at that." Helen told her in a sharp whisper. "Remember, we are _ladies_."

Lucy stopped mid-giggle and washed her remaining laughter down with a tall, finger-print smudged, glass of water.

"If you plan to make a knight of him, I hope he is better with a sword than he is with manners." Helen said to Digory.

Digory wasn't fazed. "Oh, don't worry, he is."

After supper, Helen and Lucy were told that they could sleep on any of the reclining cushions they liked.

"No beds?" Helen snapped.

"It's our way or the alleyway." Digory reminded her.

"We don't have beds either if it makes you feel any better." Edmund offered.

"Why not?" Lucy blurted out. "Are you poor?"

"No." Edmund shrugged. "Just never felt the need to bother with beds when we had perfectly good cushions all ready for us to drop on after eating."

"They smell like sweat, don't you ever wash them?" Helen protested, lowering her head to her cushion.

"It's not that bad." Edmund yawned, curling up into a ball on his cushion.

"It makes me want to faint." Helen said curtly. She looked at Edmund through-half closed eyes. "You'll be sleeping in the same room as us?"

"Um, yes?" Edmund looked at her like she had suddenly grown five heads.

"So terribly indecent..." Helen started before falling asleep mid-thought.

Digory, too, was already snoring hard when Edmund leaned over and whispered, "Hey, Lucy?"

"Hmm...?" Lucy mumbled in her sleep before shivering.

Edmund smiled and took an extra blanket from another reclining spot and put it over her. "There, better?"

"Hmm.." Lucy said again, pulling the blanket around herself.

"I'll take that as a yes." Edmund decided.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast of cold ham and crackers, Helen got to work cleaning the place. She shook the dust off the curtains, swept the floors, and straightened the tables. She did all this rather grudgingly because she wasn't none too pleased with her new employers. It was true that they were kind and thoughtful and not at all stingy with the food but they were also _so_ untidy and absent minded!

Edmund had been up at the crack of dawn, practicing his sword fighting, and then had come to breakfast without even bothering to wash up; and Digory fairly _reeked_ of tobacco-he'd had at least three pipes since the morning hours had started.

Worse, while she was forced to clean up the pig-sty they called their home, Lucy was out of this unholy, musty air working in the shop with the easy task of sword-polishing. Of course, the foolish ninny was happy as could be with their new situation, she seemed to actually _like _talking to Digory and Edmund and didn't appear to even realize how vexed and insulted she ought to have been by their crude manners.

As was apparent, Lucy did indeed take a rather different out-look on their new lives as maids to the scholarly swordsmen than her mother did. She didn't think that living with two smelly gentlemen was all that bad when compared to starvation and they were so terribly interesting as far as company went.

Their store was a bit more organized than their house was because they had a woman called Madam Macready who's job it was to manage their money and do a bit of cleaning here and there. However, she refused to so much as touch a single sword or shield and that is where Lucy had to come in. She made sure the swords and their sheaths were all cleaned and presentable for the customers when they arrived.

One day while she worked, Edmund had something to show her. "Look at this." He handed her a very prettily carved sword with words in old Narnian carved in the side.

"What does it say?" Lucy asked him.

"Can't you read it?" Edmund asked, clearly surprised.

"I only know modern Narnian and English." Lucy explained.

He shrugged. "Well, it says, 'When Aslan bares his teeth, winter meets it's death; when he shakes his mane we shall have spring again'."

"It's a very pretty sword." Lucy told him, admiring the lion-head at the top of it. "Is it yours?"

He shook his head. "It's a special order."

"For who?" Lucy asked curiously.

"Lord Pevensie's son." Edmund shrugged, handing it over to Lucy so she could polish it.

"Oh, I know him!" Lucy said excitedly. "He gave me a couple of rolls to eat on my first day here."

"Sounds like something he would do." Edmund didn't seem very surprised. "He's always been like that. He's training to be a knight, too."

"Really?" Lucy's eyes widened. Now that, she hadn't known.

"Yes, we're sort of friends; we practice together sometimes." Edmund explained. "Whenever he can get away from home."

"Do they keep him busy there?" Lucy asked.

"Very."

"I see."

"He should be coming by today to see the sword and settle on a complete price for it." Edmund told her.

The shop door opened with the jingle of rusty silver bells banging roughly together.

"Hullo?" A young man's voice called.

"That must be him now." Edmund said, taking the now-glistening sword from Lucy and starting to stand up.

"Can I come say hello?" Lucy asked hopefully. "I want to thank him for his kindness the other day."

"Sure." Edmund said, sliding the sword into its sheath. "Come along if you want."

"Hullo, Edmund." Peter said in friendly tone before he noticed Lucy standing to the left of him. "Say, who's your friend?"

He didn't recognize Lucy right away because as untidy as Digory and Edmund could be, they would not allow their house maids to ware rags and of course, Helen constantly made sure that Lucy kept her finger nails and face as clean as possible now that they had a place to live and water to bathe in.

"This is Lucy." Edmund introduced her.

Peter stared hard at her. "Aren't you the little girl I met about a week ago at the market?"

Lucy smiled and told him her whole story.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised that the Scrubbs turned you away." Peter told her. "If you'd told me who your relatives were when we met, I would have told you not to bother. Still, it's good that you're here. Professor Kirke and Ed need all the help they can get."

"You reek like a stallion." Helen grumped at Lucy as they reclined to supper two nights later.

"I was riding." Lucy protested, pulling her sleeves up so they didn't fall in the sauce bowl when she passed it.

"You were supposed to be working." Helen reminded her.

"It's alright, Helen." Digory said, shooting Lucy a half-smile. "I told her she could take a break and Edmund wanted to show her the neighbor's horses."

"I didn't get any breaks." Helen huffed, glaring at Edmund who's eyes widened at her with annoying innocence.

"Who said you couldn't rest when you wanted to?" Digory pointed out. "I never threatened to throw you in the streets if the place wasn't glittering, did I? You're the one who works yourself all day, Helen."

"I could put my daughter to better use in the kitchen with getting meals prepared and she should be spending more time with a needle and thread, not fooling around at stables and cleaning swords." Helen told them sharply.

"Mum!" Lucy protested.

"Hush, child."

"She's of plenty use to me in my shop." Digory said in a tone which they had both learned to be final. "And as it's my house and my store, I'll decide who works were and when, understood?"

Defeated, Helen lowered her head. "Yes."

"Good." Digory nodded.

"Lucy, who was that you were speaking to at the fence today?" Helen asked her daughter.

"Peter, he's a friend." Lucy said, licking a thin layer of sauce off her thumb.

"Lucy, don't ever let me catch you at that again!" Helen warned her, shooting her an angry glare, motioning at her fingers and then at her napkin. "Now this friend of yours, who is he?"

"Peter is Lord Pevensie's son." Digory spoke for her. "He's going to get a lot of money one day when his father passes on."

"I still think he'll probably just give it all to his sister." Edmund said, awkwardly wiping his hands on a napkin as it was his first time doing so (It very well might have been).

"He sounds like a fool." Helen decided, breaking a small piece of bread and bringing it to her lips. "What does his mother say about that?"

"She's been dead for years." Digory said sort of sadly. "It's sort of a long story."

Edmund made a motion like he was hanging himself, made a gagging sound, and raised an eyebrow.

"She killed herself?" Lucy gasped in complete shock, accidentally dropping her fork.

"They have a lot of problems in that household." Digory sighed, chomping on a piece of deer meat. "Let's talk about something else."

Lucy couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for Peter. She would have never guessed that he lived in a home with such dark secrets.

**AN: Please review!**


	3. That's Life

"Lucy," Digory said, entering the front of the shop from the back room. "I need you put down the swords for now and run an errand for me."

Lucy set down the special six-fingered jewel-encrusted sword and looked up at him. "Yes, Professor."

He handed her a small tightly woven straw basket. "Please go to the market and get six eggs, four loafs of bread, and pick out a nice fish while you're at it. You mother doesn't have enough supplies to finish fixing supper for us tonight and if I don't send you to get more now, I'll never hear the end of it."

Lucy couldn't help but think it a little funny that Digory, who was their boss and provider, could be annoyed into near-submition by her mother who was only a servant. Then again, that was Helen for you. She always had been terribly strong-willed and Lucy had to admit it usually did result in her getting what she wanted. Whether or not such behavior was moral and just, she didn't know-it was too confusing for her young mind to sort out most days.

"I'll go right away, professor." Lucy promised with a little submissive bow of her head, turning to the door.

"How many times must I tell you not to do that?" Digory laughed, good-naturedly. "It makes me feel like such a bully when you walk about like a beaten dog."

"You wish me to talk back to you, sir?" Lucy crinkled her forehead in confusion.

"Well, no." He thought it over, stroking his small white beard. "I get enough of that from your mother. Still, I want you to feel comfortable here, now that you work for me, this is your home, too."

"Thank you, professor." Lucy said with a pleased smile.

Lucy opened the door slowly; only wide enough for her and the basket to slip though, trying to keep the bells from clinging together. This was sort of a game she played with herself. She liked to see how quietly she could open and close the door and if none of the little bells rang, she declared herself winner.

As she walked down the busy roads towards the market place, she paused at the grand house with the bay windows and lion-clasps. She hadn't seen it since her first day in Narnia; just a little over a fortnight ago. Seated by the window again, was the pretty, dark-haired girl, Susan.

This time though, she was sitting straighter with more purpose as though trying very hard not to move and was leaning slightly outwards on the sill itself.

Looking a little to the right side of the window, Lucy noticed a boy's hand holding a charcoal stick and a large white sheet of paper that seemed to be spread out over a leather stationery.

"How long do I have to stay like this?" Susan asked whomever was drawing her likeness.

"Susan, don't talk." A strangely familiar voice answered in broken Narnian which seemed to include both words from the old and modern terms of the language. "I'm drawing your chin; quit moving it."

"Do I have afternoon lessons today?" Susan asked in a rather forced-sounding English.

"Susan Pevensie, what did I just tell you?" The voice snapped exasperatedly.

Now Lucy realized who the familiar voice belonged to. The boy-young man, rather-with the charcoal sticks was Peter. Which meant that this must be Lord Pevensie's house and that Susan was Peter's sister.

Thoughtlessly, Susan brushed her index finger along the edge of the sill, where prickly thorns from an unblossomed vine grew in little clumps, and then pulled it to her lip rather suddenly as if in pain.

Peter set down the charcoal sticks and sighed. "Let me see."

"It's nothing." Susan blurted out quickly in modern Narnian. "It's just a little nick."

"Su, there's blood rolling down the side your finger, let me see." Peter insisted, motioning to the small red stream that had formed on her hand.

She rolled her eyes and showed him her finger which was cut a little deeper than she'd originally thought.

Lucy watched Peter bandage it up for her and then tell her to be more careful next time.

Susan muttered something in old Narnian that sounded like a thank you of some sort.

Lucy would have stayed watching them longer but she knew spying wasn't right and also that her mother would be cross if she didn't hurry back with the fish, bread, and eggs.

She brought everything as quickly as possible to make up for lost time and then started back for Digory's house. On the way, she ran into Edmund who was delivering a sword to a tall dark-maned centaur with a thick waist and remarkably firm abdomen. She slowed down so she and Edmund could walk back together.

The centaur nodded respectfully at her and commended Edmund on the quality of the sword's curly-pointed hilt. "A fine crafter you are, Mister Edmund."

"The silver wasn't new." Edmund said modestly.

"You wouldn't know it upon first sight, it fairly gleams." He responded, digging his right front hoof into a crack in the cobblestone road.

Edmund smiled and nudged Lucy forward. "You have Lucy to thank for that; she does all the polishing."

Lucy blushed and shook her head.

"Please send my greetings to your grandfather." The centaur told Edmund.

"I will." He promised.

With that, the centaur trotted away.

"Edmund," Lucy asked sort of quietly, looking down at her feet as they walked along. "Why did Peter's mum kill herself?"

"It's a long story." Edmund sighed. "And there's a lot of false rumors about it, too."

"Do you know what really happened?" Lucy asked him.

"Yes." Edmund admitted.

"How?"

"Peter told me." Edmund shrugged.

"Oh." She might have guessed it.

"When Peter was about nine years old or so," Edmund began to explain. "His little sister went missing."

"Missing?" Lucy repeated.

Edmund winced. "Well, kidnapped, actually."

"I see."

"Anyway, she was gone for nearly three months and as she had always been her mother's favorite child, this was obviously very distressing for her. In the end, she couldn't take the idea that her daughter might never be found or brought back home." Edmund paused and let that sink in.

"So she..." Lucy's voice trailed off.

Edmund nodded.

"But how did they find his sister again?" Lucy wanted to know.

"Only about a week or so after they buried the mother, Peter was wandering around the east canal alleyways, tossing pebbles into the water, when he heard the most awful crying. He followed the sound and sure enough, it lead him to a young girl stuck in one of the canal's passages. He climbed in and got her out. As soon as he saw her face, he knew exactly who she was; his own lost sister."

"How awful!" Lucy exclaimed.

"Whomever had kidnapped her decided to abandon her there for some unknown reason." Edmund went on. "She very ill and frightened when they found her. Very skittish, too. Wouldn't let anyone get near her, except for Peter, that is. So it was decided that he would have to be the one to look after her. And he did."

"How?" Lucy wanted to know.

"Nursed her back to health for one thing." Edmund said, as they turned the corner that led them passed the Lord Pevensie's house. "For another, he had to be a sort of tutor for her. She wouldn't listen to anyone else; hated nearly everyone." He lowered his voice as they passed the open window. "At least eight tutors quit saying she was an impossible brat and that she'd never learn anything. To this day, Peter has to teach her just about everything. Art, History, writing, all of it...even..." He turned a little red in the face and looked both ways. "Sewing."

"Peter sews?" Lucy blurted out a bit too loudly.

Edmund covered her mouth. "Some things we shout, others we say in hushed tones."

"Sorry." Lucy mouthed.

Peter and Susan, who were still in the window seat, thought they heard something and looked out.

Edmund waved to them innocently, hoping they hadn't heard what he'd just said.

Peter gave him a friendly smile, but Susan quickly looked away as if he was only a small sparrow or a gust of wind that had flown by the window; a slightly disdainful expression on her face.

They arrived at the back lot of the shop where some older swords had been put out that morning.

"Do you know anything about fencing, Lu?" Edmund asked suddenly, realizing that not once in all this time had he inquired about that.

Lucy shook her head.

"I could teach you." Edmund offered, picking up one of the swords, examining to see if it was destroyed beyond practical use or not. It wasn't. The one next to it was. He held out the usable one to Lucy, hilt first.

Placing the basket of groceries down, she took it and studied the way part of it still shone in the light and wondered if there was a way to clean the thick rust off of the other part. Then she lost herself in the lesson, which much to her delight and somewhat to her surprise, was very interesting.

When Lucy finally brought the food to her mother, Helen scoffed and told her that she had taken much too long and that she wouldn't be at all surprised if the eggs had gone bad in all that time she'd wasted.

"Sorry, mum." She hung her head slightly.

"Sorry doesn't put food on the table." Helen snapped, cutting an onion, making the knife cling hard against the practically non-existent chopping board.

"Yes, I know." Lucy apologized.

"Good." Helen said firmly, handing her daughter a long wooden ladle. "Stir the pot."

"I'm needed back in the shop." Lucy protested, remembering that there was a fresh new order of swords to shine and that Madam Macready wouldn't be there to help with a few of the other chores she sometimes substituted for.

"Obey your mother." Helen said firmly, eyeing the still ladle in Lucy's right hand.

"Yes, Mum." Lucy started to stir the pot slowly.

Helen took off her apron and left the kitchen. "Mind you don't let it bubble over."

"Where are you going?" Lucy asked, forgetting to stir for a moment.

"Never you mind, just keep stirring." Helen insisted, tossing the apron near her daughter's free hand.

She walked out of the house and into the back of the shop where Digory was starting on the finishing touches for Peter's sword.

He looked up when he saw Helen standing there. "Where's Lucy?"

"Preparing supper." Helen told him.

"I need her help here in the shop." Digory said, shooting her a slight glare. "I thought I'd made that perfectly clear in the past."

"Let's get one thing straight, Sir." Helen said firmly, returning the glare without hesitation. "We are here to work because we haven't got anywhere else to go. That does not mean my daughter is to be treated as if she was a second grandson to you."

"I'm not sure I get your meaning, Helen." Digory said dryly.

"I saw her sword fighting with that boy of yours from the window when she didn't know I was watching."

"It'll do her worlds of good." Digory decided, setting down the sword and picking up his pipe.

"It's vulgar." Helen protested.

"That's life." Digory shrugged, bringing his pipe to his lips.

"We'll see about that." Helen said under her breath.

"Tell Lucy to come here, there's work for her to do." He said indifferently.

Lucy felt the ladle ripped out of her hand.

"Go down to the shop." Helen grumbled.

"I thought-" Lucy started.

"Just go before I change my mind." Helen hissed.

"Yes, Mum." She said meekly, taking off the apron.

**AN: Please review!**


	4. Of Swords and Attics

Time passed and things fell into a fairly predicable routine. Helen begrudgingly allowed Lucy to study swordsmanship on the condition that she learn in theory only. No matter how hard Digory and Edmund pressed, she refused to let Lucy use any of her knowledge in action, saying it was very unladylike and that she would rather live on the streets than allow her female child to behave in such a manner.

Sometimes Peter would come by while Edmund or Digory (Sometimes both) were teaching Lucy from their well-worn dusty tomes and would put him his own two-sense on the matter. He was a good teacher and although he could rarely stay for the full lesson, the advise he shared was always helpful.

Every now and then, Lucy felt curious about his life and thought of asking him about his family. Somehow though, the words never could quite come out. She'd plan to ask him about his sister or maybe his father, or else even what the servants in his household were like but her lips wouldn't move at the right time and the phrases she practiced in her mind stayed put. She knew he probably would answer any questions clearly and truthfully but she worried about bringing up something painful. Much as she liked him, she always felt something holding her back in their friendship. Some dark invisible force that couldn't be explained or understood holding them apart. He knew her well enough but she felt that she could not full know him.

Edmund, though darker in nature, seemed easier to relate to. She soon learned that he wasn't the open book she had at first thought him to be; that he could be distant and even bitter at times. Lucy could see both sides of him. The playful side he used when teasing and the gloomy side he used when he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. The thing was that in spite of his ways, nothing was hidden. It was not so with Peter who seemed, metaphorically speaking, to be standing in the shadows more often than not. Maybe he wasn't dark, maybe he was nothing but light, maybe he'd long since left his demons behind; but you couldn't tell by looking at him nor through the things he said.

When her mother was out, Lucy liked to watch Edmund and Peter practice their sword fighting. At such moments, lost in the amusement of admiring two highly-skilled sportsmen, she could almost forget that she herself would never be permitted to try it. They were both very talented; more over, they were gentlemen in their dealings-although they could be known to play tricks on each other from time to time.

Two days before Lucy's tenth birthday, while she was busy cleaning up a rather weather-beaten sword made of some sort of fake-gold metal, the bells at the front of the shop rang and a tall golden-bearded man walked in.

Although she had never seen him before, Lucy knew at once who he was. Most of his features where familiar. His face was almost an exact mirror image of Peter's only older and more angular in shape. This was, without question, Lord Pevensie.

He also dressed much more lavishly than his son did. The top of his tunic had light golden tassels and a scarlet side-cape which swept over his right shoulder in three neatly creased pleats. His boots were a rich, glossy black, as perfectly polished as all of the swords Lucy worked on each day.

In comparison to his expressive, many-parts, garments, Lucy's clothing seemed painfully plain. Her neat black frock, simple gray cap, and-originally-white, cinder-stained apron had seemed perfectly decent-looking before Lord Pevensie had arrived. Now they seemed colourless and somewhat dreary.

"Hullo, little maiden." He said, clearing his in throat. "Is Digory Kirke here?"

"He's gone to take a new dwarf's sword to Master Trumpkin's estate." Lucy explained, apologetically. "He wont be back until late this evening. His grandson, Edmund, is here though. Shall I go get him for you?"

Lord Pevensie paused for a moment to think it over. "Please."

Lucy put down her sword and rag and went into the back room to find Edmund. "Ed, Lord Pevensie is here."

He looked up at her, his eyes widening with surprise. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Usually he just sends Peter when he wants something from us." Edmund said, standing up slowly.

"Do you think it's about the sword?" Lucy wondered aloud.

"Most likely." Edmund shrugged. "There isn't much else he would need to talk to us about. Maybe he didn't like it."

"How could he not?" Lucy exclaimed incredulously, her eyes widening as she spoke. "It's the most beautiful sword ever. What you and Digory crafted was simply incredible, Ed."

Edmund's expression softened and he gave her a small smile, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the front of the store. "Come, let's go see what he wants."

"Good day, Edmund." Lord Pevensie greeted him.

"Good day to you, sir." Edmund responded respectfully.

"I came here hoping to find your grandfather but I suppose you can pass a message on to him?" Lord Pevensie said.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell him this, that I was very pleased by the new sword he made for my son-the professor is indeed a master, I've never seen it's equal-"

"Oh, but Edmund worked on it, too!" Lucy blurted out.

Lord Pevensie paused and looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. "Did he now?"

"It wasn't much..." Edmund started, feeling something between a longing to hug Lucy for bringing it up and wanting to smack her for it.

"But it was!" Lucy went on, not stopping to think if she had made a mistake by interrupting a Lord when he was speaking. If her mother had been there, she would have surely been scolded. "Digory made the metal but the design was Edmund's, the carvings and the hilt were his, too."

"So they both made it?" Lord Pevensie asked.

"Yes." Lucy told him.

"Equal shares in the work?"

"Certainly, sir." She answered.

"Well in that case, I thank you for your fine work as well as that of your grandfather's." Lord Pevensie said rather diplomatically.

"Thank you, sir." Edmund said, giving Lucy a look which was something between a smile and a grimace.

"Anyhow, as I was saying," Lord Pevensie started again. "I've never seen a finer sword in all my life and I know of several other investors who would be deeply interested in such specialty swords. I'm having some of these investors over for tea next week and was wondering if your grandfather-" he looked at Lucy, paused and then looking back at Edmund, added, "And you as well, Edmund."

Lucy smiled.

"Would come to my manor for tea on that day and perhaps meet them." He finished.

"I'll let my grandfather know, sir." Edmund promised.

"Good." Lord Pevensie nodded, satisfied. "Also, you can bring along your friend, if you like." He smiled at Lucy who looked down at her feet, turning a little red in the face from surprise-she hadn't expected this. "Good day, I must be leaving now."

As soon as the bells jingled and the door shut behind him, Edmund turned to Lucy and laughed, "Oh, Lu, you little imp! I don't know whether to thank you for bringing me into this, or curse you for it."

Lucy laughed along with him. "Didn't you want me to?"

"Maybe I did." Edmund said thoughtfully. "How is it you know me so well?"

Lucy shrugged her shoulders and went back to polishing the swords.

A few days later, shortly after the noon meal, Lucy stood looking a small dusty staircase which had been hidden by a pile of rags and curtain scraps up until Helen had moved in and thrown them away. There was a trace of a former railing but the wood was almost completely rotted and bug-eaten, of no real use now.

"What's up there?" Lucy asked Edmund when she was sure her mother was out of earshot (Helen had given her a sound warning to stay away from the staircase, saying it was nothing by a torn-up death trap and that she would get a spanking if she attempted to climb it).

"Our attic." Edmund told her. "Or rather, Grandfather's great grandfather's attic. It hasn't been used in a few generations."

"Have you ever gone up there?" Lucy wanted to know.

"Actually, I haven't." Edmund realized, seeming rather intrigued by the idea. He grabbed onto Lucy's wrist. "Come on."

"But I can't." Lucy protested, remembering her mother's warning.

"It's not dangerous." Edmund said. He wasn't sure if that was true or not, he simply wanted her to come with him and he didn't intend to let anything happen to her anyway. He'd be sure to keep a close eye so that she didn't get lost or hurt or anything; why shouldn't she come?

"You don't know that." Lucy reminded him. "You've never been there yourself."

"Well, tomorrow I wont be able to say that and neither will you, come on." Edmund said, giving her wrist a slight yank.

Lucy looked both ways, her mother was busy with something else and wasn't around. "Alright, I suppose I could come for a little while."

Edmund grinned at her and they started going up the staircase together. Edmund went in the front, testing out the firmness of each step with his foot and then he would turn around half-way and nod at Lucy to let her know it was safe to stand on. The stairs went further up than either of them had thought at first and when they finally reached the top, they were nearly exhausted.

"Phew." Said Edmund, wiping a small trickle of sweat off his forehead. "That was quite a climb."

Lucy opened her mouth to answer him but her words turned into a cough from the dusty air they were now engulfed in.

"Look, Lucy." Edmund pointed to long row of trunks and a something tall covered by a long gray sheet.

Lucy opened one of the trunks, and let out a gasp when she saw a pretty golden dress folded up neatly inside of it. Gleefully, she unfolded it and spread it out in front of her body, looking over to the tall mirror on the other side of the attic. It had a long, thick crack running through the middle of it but other than that and, of course, a layer of dust it was still an honest reflection. It was much too big for her little ten year old body. The dress had been made for a grown woman, not a child.

While Lucy ran her fingers over the lining of the trunk and folded the dress up to put it back, Edmund fished through another trunk and pulled out a knight's helmet. Just as the dress had been made for a woman, the helmet had been made for a man, not a boy; it was far too big on him.

Still he put it on and held his head-which seemed so much smaller in the large helmet-high. Lucy saw him and giggled.

He took it off and raised an eyebrow at her. "You think it's funny?"

"Well...yes..." Lucy said through her laughter, backing up towards the tall covered thing. Her foot caught on the edge of the sheet and when she tried to free herself from it, she pulled off the whole thing, revealing a tall apple-wood wardrobe with a looking-glass on the door.

Edmund whistled when he saw it. "Nice."

"We should open it." Lucy decided, reaching for the handle, listening for the opening, click.

Playing with the wardrobe and all of the other things in the attic, Edmund and Lucy lost track of time, it was hours later when they finally came down stairs just in time for tea. Both were dirty, sweaty, and breathless when they came face to face with Helen, Digory, and an elderly man who's name Lucy didn't know.

Digory and the other elderly man had sat down for their tea and Helen was putting out the food and the rusty kettle for them in the reclining area. She stopped and glared at her daughter.

"Where were you?" She demanded.

"Um..." Lucy began timidly.

"We were playing in the wardrobe." Edmund blurted out, hoping to distract Helen's thoughts from anger towards Lucy. "Pretending there was a snowy wood behind it. It's my fault really, I shouldn't have encouraged her."

"Hmm..." Digory's guest looked at him and Lucy with a thoughtful expression on his face, bringing his cup of tea to his lips.

"What are you thinking of, Jack?" Digory asked him.

"Oh, nothing." He smiled to himself, looking at Edmund and Lucy out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing at all, Digory."

"More tea, Mr. Lewis?" Helen asked, shooting a sharp, angry look in Edmund's direction.

**AN: (I thought that would be a funny way to end the chapter) Please review.**


	5. Tea at Lord Pevensie's Manor

Helen worked a wooden-handled brush through her daughter's hair. The bristles scratched her scalp and made her head ache, but Lucy knew better than to complain. Mother was very determined to get herself and Lucy looking their bests today because they were going to have tea over at Lord Pevensie's house.

"But you didn't seem to care this much when we had tea over the blacksmith's house last month." Lucy blurted out with all the best intentions, deep down knowing she would probably get a scowl for her choice of words anyway.

"It's not the same thing." Helen said firmly in her most final no-nonsense tone, giving Lucy's hair another yank with the brush before pulling it back out of her face with a brown ribbon.

"Why isn't it?" Lucy asked, smoothing out a wrinkle in her russet skirt before her mother could notice it an accuse of not laying it flat to dry when she'd taken in the laundry last week. It wouldn't matter that laundry was one of Helen's chores, not Lucy's. She would still be likely to get in trouble for it all the same.

"Because, he is a great Narnian Lord." Helen rolled her eyes impatiently. "Not to mention he's a widower."

"What's that mean?" Lucy asked.

"It means he hasn't got a wife." Helen said, sucking in her cheeks, thinking that Lucy ought to spend more time studying vocabulary instead of all that swordsmanship rubbish.

"Are you a widower, because father's gone?" Lucy asked sort of quietly, looking down at her well-shined shoes, so perfectly polished that she could almost see her reflection in them.

"A widow." Helen corrected, not without a pang of sadness in her voice. This time, there was no curtness in her tone, it was more of a restrained sorrow.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Why does it matter that he hasn't got a wife?" Lucy bit her lip after she spoke, wondering why she felt so uneasy asking this question, as if part of her already knew the answer but her young mind kept refusing to explain or even admit it.

"You'll understand when you're a bit older, child." Helen sighed, pulling the ends of the ribbon into a little bow before stepping back, finally satisfied with her daughter's appearance.

Lucy sat quietly looking down at her hands, unable to will herself even to squirm-although it would have been such a relief to do so-because she knew she mustn't ruin her mother's hard work. The only thing that troubled her was the question of _why _her mother was putting so much attention and effort into the looks of a simple looking woman and a rather plain little girl today.

Sure, there was the obvious answer; she wanted to make a good impression on the Narnian Lord because Narnia was the place she had grown up before moving away and a good impression on the lord would in turn, make her seem one with Narnia-no longer part of Ettinsmoor. But it seemed to Lucy that it ran deeper even than that. Would Helen care so much if he wasn't a widower? Why was that to be considered a good thing? It seemed horribly tragic to Lucy; certainly there was no way her mother benefited from the poor man's loneliness or the suffering of his children, was there?

"So you do know what soap is." Helen said rather venomously when Edmund entered the room, cleaned up and ready to go.

"It's a life style choice not ignorance." Edmund said with a proud smirk, unwilling to let her comment get to him.

The corners of Lucy's mouth turned up to smile but instantly fell down again by her mother's stony expression. She remembered Helen telling her not to laugh at Edmund's burp on their first night with the scholarly swordsmen and felt fairly certain that she wasn't allowed to laugh-or even to smile-at this joke either.

"Is that grandfather of yours ready to leave yet?" Helen tapped her foot impatiently.

"You mean is your _benefactor _ready to leave yet?" Edmund was in no mood to humor Helen's attitude today.

"If you were my son, I'd punish you for being so insolent at such a young age." Helen said airily.

Edmund let out a slight snort. "If I was your son, I'd punish _myself_."

Lucy didn't laugh at that either, she felt almost guilty for wanting to. After all, it was her mother that he was speaking against, no matter how provoked or even just his words might have been.

"Ah, the cheeky sarcasms of the inexperienced young." Helen brushed off his comment with an almost laughter-like tone but she still wore an intense glower on her face.

Edmund returned her expression with a false smile, the sort people use when speaking with their least favorite relative or annoying tutor.

Before anything else could be said or an out-right argument could be started, Digory called for them and their conversation was cut short.

The walk to Lord Pevensie's house was long and sort of unpleasant for Lucy. It was a sort of chilly day and her shoes kept rubbing all the wrong places on her feet. Whenever she attempted to slow down to adjust them, her mother grabbed her arm and pulled her along with sharp reprimand to 'just this once, keep up and not wander off'. She couldn't talk much with Edmund either because he walked a little ways in front of her and Helen, beside Digory who-judging by his relaxed expression-was the only one getting any mental benefit out of their little stroll. Edmund looked somewhat relaxed except for the fact he constantly peered back over his shoulder, a practice which seemed to annoy Helen greatly.

When they stood in front of the beautiful manor, Lucy noticed that Helen's nose didn't wrinkle the way it did whenever she stood on the steps of a poorer household-like that of the blacksmith's for example. Rather it turned up just slightly as if taking in a delightful aroma. Her eyes seemed to be scanning everything; every perfect brick seemed to be under her inspection. From the expression that followed, it was apparent the place had passed.

Passed what exactly? Lucy wondered, looking up at the window where Susan sometimes sat, surprised and a little saddened to see it vacant with lion-clasps clipped shut.

The front door opened and Tumnus the faun, whom Lucy had seen on her first day in the marketplace, stood there telling them to come in.

As soon as she stepped inside, Lucy was awestruck by what she saw. A astonishingly lofty ceiling painted with cubby-cheeked, small silver-winged, blue-eyed, baby cherubs. In the very center was a smooth moon-shaped sphere made of stain-glass the colour of the bluest cornflower. This stunning over-head was supported by long glass and porcelain pillars which ended in gold lions-paw holders on the pale green tiles the floor was patterned with.

She had known Lord Pevensie was rich but she had never imagined he lived in a place like this. His exquisite clothing showed only a small fraction of the marvelous wealth displayed in this one room.

Helen stood for a moment, fiddling with the tiny pearl ring on her middle finger (Lucy noticed that it was for some reason no longer displayed on the ring finger where it had always been ever since father had given it to her and wondered why her mother had chosen this day of all days to remove it), it was the only piece of jewelry she still owned and it had a chip in part of it. It was nothing to the brilliance they were now fairly engulfed in.

Finally coming to her senses again, Helen tapped her daughter lightly on the shoulder.

"It's like a palace, mum." Lucy whispered.

"Don't gawk, dear." Helen said more sympathy than firmness in her tone. "We also may be well off someday."

We'll never have this kind of money, Lucy thought; somewhat uncaringly as she never had truly minded being relatively poor if only they had food to eat. Also, Digory and Edmund took such good care of them; what else would they ever need?

Almost as if reading her daughter's thoughts, Helen whispered, "Someday, my child; perhaps sooner than you think."

What _do_ you mean? Lucy shook her head, too over-whelmed to think anymore.

"May I take your coats, caps, and cloaks?" Tumnus offered, his hooves clanking loudly on the tiles as he stepped closer to them.

"Yes, thank you." Edmund took off his cap, tied his scarf around it, pulling it into a tight buddle with his coat which he had already taken off, and handed to Tumnus.

Helen slid off her coat and handed it to the faun, without looking at him. Lucy found herself wondering if her mother didn't like-possibly didn't trust-creatures that weren't all human and found that rather odd for someone who was raised in Narnia. Or else maybe it was because she thought herself-or wanted to think her-too important to make eye contact with a servant.

But _we're _servants, Lucy thought, both of us. We work for Digory he doesn't pay us a wage, but he gives us food to eat and a place to live in, that makes us servants all the same, doesn't it? By all accounts, it is Tumnus who ought to snub us-he works here in the house of this great lord and we just work for swordsmen, isn't that how it is?

"Ah, there you are!" Lord Pevensie exclaimed in modern Narnian mixed with a few English words here and there, coming out from another room to greet them. "The finest swords-makers in all of Narnia!"

Digory shook his head modestly. "You flatter us, Lord Pevensie."

"Surely not." He smiled at them. "We are just the same, sir. Both of us trying to make a way in the world, both with sons who will one day be knights, with only one major difference."

"What is that?" Digory asked, a slight glimmer in his eyes.

"You have talent and I don't." He laughed. It was a rich, deep, hearty laugh that made his shoulder shake.

"Nonsense." Digory said kindly.

"Truly though, the sword was a true work of art." Lord Pevensie said.

Helen let out a small self-conscious cough.

"Who is this, Digory?" Lord Pevensie asked in modern Narnian.

"She's my mother, sir." Lucy answered in English. "Her name is Helen."

"Speak to the nice man in his native tongue, Lucy." Helen told her a bit too loudly in modern Narnian.

"Ah, so you speak Narnian!" Lord Pevensie seemed impressed. "From speaking with your daughter the other day, I thought you were English."

"Ah, but are not all true Narnians actually English?" Helen cocked an eyebrow at him coyly. "Was it not what our first queen spoke?"

"True, very true." Lord Pevensie had to agree. "You are well versed in history, I see."

"Of course."

He squinted at her. "You were not always a servant were you, Helen?"

"I was a high born Narnian once before fate thought it wise to send me away from that life." Helen said-in modern Narnian.

"Fate does have a cruel way of treating a person." Lord Pevensie said sympathetically. Sighing, he added, "Well then, you must all be hungry, do come into the dinning room and have tea with us."

The walls in the dinning room were made of mirror strips and painted with blue and white rhombus patterns which surrounded an oval-shaped, glossy, cherry-wood table. The tea was spread out upon it as beautifully as if it were to be in a painting. The sparkling silver serving trays were open revealing small finger-sandwiches, lovely brown eggs, fine white-flour bread, small fluffy cakes, crab dishes, fudge blocks, cream puffs, and Lucy's favorite; sticky buns.

Seated at the table, were three men and a satyr.

The first man had a long, thin, black, rat's tail of a mustache on his weak-looking milk-coloured face and was dressed in what looked like long mauve drapes.

The second was fat and bald with a long white beard and small tired-looking eyes which sprang to life as soon as Digory and Edmund were introduced as the craftsmen who had made Master Peter's newest sword.

The third, was dark-skinned and wore a large turban with a bright red feather on his head.

The satyr had a man's lower body but his mouth and most of his head were very goat-like. He was dressed in light brown pants and thick arm-bracelets made of white-gold.

"These are my investors." Lord Pevensie told them. "The Lord Jaden, the Lord Dufflemod, the Tarkaan Rabadash, and Mister Flowslwoh."

"Pleased to meet you." Lucy told them, although she did not at all think she liked the Tarkaan very much and tried to look at him as little as possible, preferring to keep her eyes on the satyr although he was not as handsome. There was an almost ruby-evil gleam about the Tarkaan's eyes which made her think of bitter imps bent on ruin and vileness.

"Do sit." Lord Pevensie motioned at the chairs and Tumnus pulled four of them out just wide enough for them to scoot in.

They were almost ready to eat when Master Peter appeared looked tired and flustered, rubbing blood-shot eyes and shaking his head at his father when he looked to him inquisitively.

"Well?"

"She's not coming down." Peter said, he noticed the new arrivals. "Hullo, Edmund, Digory, Lucy, Helen."

"Hi, Peter." Lucy blurted out before her mother elbowed her. "I mean, good day, Master Peter."

"Hey, Pete." Edmund said, shooting Helen a smug glance while Lucy rubbed her aching right rib wondering if all the elbowing an pinching young ladies had to endure was truly as healthy as it was cracked up to be.

"It is cruel the way your sister plays us." Tarkaan Rabadash said in an oily voice. "To keep such beauty hidden from the world, tis a mean trick indeed."

Peter's expression hardened and Lucy could tell he disliked him even more than she did. "With all due respect, Tarkaan Rabadash, perhaps if you did not drool like a dog every time she entered a room..."

"You dare call me a dog?" He hissed angrily.

"Peter," Lord Pevensie said sternly. "How many times must I beseech you not to offend honored guests in this house?"

"Sorry, father." Peter didn't look sorry at all although he did hang his head in a respectful manner. "I only meant that his manner is at times disrespect-"

"Apologize to Tarkaan Rabadash at once." He cut him off.

"I'm sorry." Peter said through his teeth without looking Rabadash directly in the eye.

Lord Pevensie sighed. "Good enough."

Peter started to sit down but his father shook his head. "You can have your tea with your sister upstairs so she doesn't have to take her meal alone. Tumnus will bring you up something. I think you've done enough here."

Peter looked saddened and Lucy fought back the urge to hug him and tell him everything was going to be quite alright.

"Yes, father." He pushed in his chair and left the room.

**AN: Please review! (I love getting reviews)**


	6. Forced Acceptance

The rest of the meal went by quietly except for the clanking of spoons swirling tea cups and the occasional contented sigh from Lord Pevensie or one of his guests.

When they had finished and were all going into the sitting room to rest their full stomachs and perhaps light a pipe or two if Lord Pevensie said it was allowed in his house and offered the tobacco and tinderbox to them, Lucy followed tiredly behind.

"The little girl doesn't need to stay in the company of our old chit-chat." Lord Pevensie decided, noticing Lucy sitting quietly in the arm chair furthest from the fire, fiddling with her fingers out of boredom. "We're simply going to be discussing shipments of trades and of course investments in your wonderful swords." He nodded at Digory and Edmund. "Why doesn't she go out back to the garden and amuse herself for a bit?"

"Oh that's not necessary." Helen cut in out of habit. "She'd only be in the way of the gardeners, your lordship."

Lord Pevensie laughed a little. "My gardeners work early in the morning and have the rest of the day off, she wouldn't be in anyone's way at all."

"Thank Lord Pevensie for his kindness." Helen told her daughter sternly.

"Thank you, sir." Lucy said respectfully in modern Narnian.

"Well off with you then, dear." He said dismissively, pointing the way to the garden. "Down the west hall towards the billiard room, passed the east staircase, out the fourth glass door on the left."

Lucy nodded and wandered down the hall wishing Edmund had been allowed to come with her. These sort of explorations were more fun with a companion than by one's self. Still, she couldn't help but look at everything with amazement and even excitement. Never had she been in a house like this before. It was what she had always imagined a king's Palace to look like from the inside.

Below her feet, muffling the sound of her footsteps were bright ruby-coloured rugs and carpets embroidered with birds who's wings were sewn with golden thread. It was absurdly expensive material and yet, it was in something people wiped their boots on-the idea if such wealth was foreign and delightfully new to her.

The west hall was made of smooth blue and pink stones on a long narrow white wall with a few panel-wood doors which Lucy thought must be where the servants put the laundry baskets when they weren't in use. Then the white walls seemed to become suddenly transparent because they were no longer made of wood but of light tinted-glass with crystal framing around it.

Glancing past the silver door handles, Lucy could catch glimpses of gold-lined pools with perfectly clear blue water shinning brightly in their sparkling centers and of grassy laws and even of a small fruit orchard. Then there was what had to be the garden with long red-brick pathways and rare flowers which Lucy had never seen before blooming everywhere and the small candle trees growing near the emerald green bushes.

Much to her disappointment though, Lucy noticed the clouds over-head getting darker and little drops of drizzle hitting the glass making an almost musical sound. She couldn't go out in the rain. Still, she wasn't certain she wanted to go back to the grown-ups just yet either. What do to?

The answer she wanted to give herself so badly was obvious-to explore the lovely manor from top to bottom. She wanted to see all of the pretty rooms and staircases and admire all of the artistry. Mother wouldn't like that though. She would think it most impolite. Well, supposing she just wandered up the stairs and looked to see what was at the top of them? Then she could go back to the adults in the sitting room.

She put a foot on the step and felt her shoe slide slightly because of the sheer smoothness of the marble. Daring to take another step and using the railing so that she wouldn't fall, she climbed the rest of them. At the top was a set of three smaller stairs leading to the rooms on another floor and-on the other side-a small ledge with a wooden border which seemed to stick out just a little.

Lucy gasped when she noticed a small white finger sticking out of the corner. Now it became apparent that the ledge was more of a sliding-door cabinet and that someone was behind it, listening to her walk up the stairs.

"Who's there?" Lucy blurted out feeling strangely afraid.

The wood slid to reveal an eye and then a full face which looked a little relieved.

"Oh, it's you-I thought it was that horrible Tarkaan with the oily voice and that stupid red feather." The person said in clear modern Narnian peppered with some older terms here and there.

Squinting at the pale, pretty face half-hidden in the shadows, Lucy recognized her at last. It was only Peter's sister, Susan.

The wood slid all the way and Susan leaned out.

"You work for the scholarly swordsmen." She said in modern Narnian.

"Yes." Lucy admitted before asking, "What are you doing up there?"

Susan shook her head, unwilling to answer her question. "You should go back downstairs, you aren't supposed to be here."

"Oh...well...I..." She tried to think up an explanation but didn't get far before Susan shut the wooden silt closed again dismissively.

The next day while polishing swords, Lucy told Edmund about what had happened with Susan.

"I'm surprised you got more than two words out of her." Edmund said, trying a round shield on his arm for size. "She must like you."

"She didn't seem to." Lucy pointed out.

"Well that's just Susan." Edmund explained, slipping the round shield off his arm and trying on a larger one. "Everyone says she used to be the sweetest girl in the world before she was kidnapped and then she was skittish and hateful of just about everyone-especially men-except for Peter. She doesn't even like me very much; you must have seen the way she wouldn't even look at me that day when we came back from the market and saw them sitting in the window."

"I feel sorry for her." Lucy said, organizing a small stack of child-sized swords. "She seems so distant."

"That's one way you could put it." Edmund said, placing the shield down on the front counter. "The term most people around here use when talking about her isn't as nice."

"That hardly seems fair." Lucy said with a slight pout.

"Not much is." Edmund shrugged.

"Peter seemed so sad, don't you think?" Lucy asked, remembering the look on his face the last time she had seen him when his father dismissed him from the room.

"In a way you get used to it." Edmund sighed. "He goes through a lot. His sister pulls him one way, his father pulls him the other. He's always had a hard time pleasing both of them."

"Ed, look!" Lucy blurted out suddenly, pointing to the door as the bells clanged together and Lord Pevensie walked in.

"He's come a day early." Edmund said, standing up and peering over towards the counter. "He wasn't supposed to come for the sword until tomorrow."

"Why would-" Lucy started.

"Someone must have sent word for him to come today." Edmund realized.

"But who-" Lucy crinkled her forehead before Edmund pulled her down behind a pile of scrap metal so they could watch the counter.

Instead of Madam Macready, Helen was there with the sword all wrapped up, handing it over to Lord Pevensie. She smiled at him coyly.

"What does she think she's doing?" Edmund hissed in a low tone. "It's not her job to work the counter."

"Maybe Madam Macready asked her to fill in." Lucy suggested.

Edmund shook his head. "She wouldn't do that. Madam Macready has never had someone 'fill in' for her once in all the years she's worked for my grandfather, your mother planned this."

"But why would she do that?" Lucy whispered, crouching lower so that she wouldn't be seen.

"Think about it, Lu." Edmund explained, shaking his head in disgust. "Madam Macready must be having her noon meal, Digory is out at an appointment she's known for days he had, she didn't know we were down here..."

"Mum wouldn't try to steal your grandfather's business, Ed." Lucy said loyally. "I know my mother wouldn't do that, so there."

Edmund had to choke back a laugh. "You don't get it, she doesn't care about my grandfather's swords or the money they bring in; it would never be enough for her...she's trying to get a chance to flirt with Lord Pevensie."

"What?" Lucy blinked at him, completely baffled.

"She wants him to like her so he'll marry her and she'll be rich." Edmund told her.

"But that's not true." Lucy protested, not liking to think of her mother that way. "It can't be."

Edmund put a hand on her shoulder. "It is, Lucy. You have to accept that."

**AN: Please review.**


	7. Leaving

**AN: Sorry that I was a bit slow in updating, I simply didn't get a chance to write this chapter any sooner. Also, I know that not a lot of events happen in this chapter, it's just importaint to the plot and more will happen later on, I promise.**

Over the next few weeks, Lucy watched her mother struggle to impress Lord Pevensie. Somehow, she managed to make it seem smooth and simple as if it was an easy transition. Lucy herself might have come to believe it if only Helen's laughter hadn't been a pitch too sharp or her gestures a bit over expressive here and there.

Whether or not Helen really loved Lord Pevensie was somewhat unclear. Certainly she liked him-even admired him, but as to love who could tell? She loved his attention and she loved the challenge of attaining it. His feelings toward her remained almost just as hidden. He didn't feel the same way about her as had felt about his first wife, still he managed to convince himself that what he was feeling was a sort of love all the same. Whether it was just because they were both lonely or both strong willed (though in different ways) that made them grow closer was hard to say. Possibly Helen was simply talented when it came to changing fate, especially her own.

It became a common sight for Lord Pevensie to visit Helen with a gift of some sort and it wasn't unusual to see Helen going to meet with him in the marketplace so they could walk together. In time, their dealings simply bended into the rest of the scenery of the lives of the people in Narnia.

Lucy found herself surprised by how little actually changed during her mother's courtship. Day to day life remained the same. Lucy still studied swordsmanship and was still forbidden to put any of it into action. She still cleaned and polished the swords in the shop day in and day out. She and her mother still ate, reclined, and slept in the same room as Digory and Edmund just as they had for nearly a year now. Edmund was still her constant companion, eager to teach-and sometimes to tease-her whenever she needed it. She still ran the same errands and made the same stops. She still worried about Master Peter (who still visited to confide in Edmund who was still his friend and fellow knight in training) and wondered about Susan (who was still as aloof as ever).

The only major difference she couldn't help noticing was that all of a sudden, Helen had friends. The all important lords' wives suddenly decided she was now worthy of their attention because she could possibly become one of them someday in the near future.

Like-wise, their daughters suddenly began greeting Lucy in the marketplace and on the street; where as before, they had simply shuffled passed her turning up their noses apathetically. The majority of these young ladies interested her not at all as they were mostly prim dumpy girls who thought of nothing but how wealthy their families were and how fine an 'upbringing' they were to have and weren't they so terribly lucky to have it all even though they obviously deserved it? It was no wonder than that Edmund's company was highly preferred to theirs as far as Lucy was concerned.

Then, as suddenly as a shooting star blazing unexpectedly across an ebony black sky, everything changed.

It was about three or four months after Lucy's eleventh birthday. She had been cleaning a particularly long sword made special for a seven-foot man whom Edmund told her was as long and thin as a pencil and had a voice like a water on rocks. The notion of such an interesting customer amused Lucy greatly and she moved the rag along the blade slower even than necessary for something so long and sharp in hopes of catching a glimpse of the strange man when he came in.

Her eyes widened and her head whipped when she heard the sound of the bells fairly flying off the door. Someone was entering in a horrible hurry. The seven-foot man sure was speedy! And he didn't actually look all that tall and long either. Rather he looked small, pale-brown, and round in an almost plum-like way with a very familiar face. Oh, it wasn't the customer at all; it was simply Helen looking delightfully happy for the first time in a while.

Mother looks so different today, Lucy thought to herself before she realized it was because for once she didn't look petulant or annoyed with her place in life.

"Lucy, my child!" She exclaimed happily, fairly beaming at her daughter. "Put down that sword at once, we are no longer servants."

"But...but..." Stammered Lucy, her glace falling first to her mother and then over to Digory and Edmund who had just entered the room, drawn in by Helen's excessive excited cries of joy.

"Lord Pevensie has asked me to marry him!" Helen announced, pausing after reaching her sentence's high point, as though she expected someone to applaud or squeal in delight.

"It seems you got what you wanted, Helen." Digory said simply and flatly, lacking in any warmth or venom.

"That's nice, your ladyship." Madam Macready said without looking up from some figures she was working out. "Do come around if there's anything we can do."

Edmund snorted. Helen, a lady? Really? Of course he'd know this could-and probably would-happen sooner or later but in his deepest quietest thoughts, he had hoped desperately and feverishly that Lord Pevensie was simply amusing himself with Helen and wouldn't marry her. If it had only been a question of Helen going away, Edmund wouldn't have cared in the least. He would have been glad to eat with his fingers again without her nagging voice telling him for love of Aslan to please use a fork. He wouldn't have minded the house getting a little messy again; what with all his knight training, which would become more intense now that he was getting older, when would he have the time to notice a little dust here and there? It was Lucy's leaving that he mourned. He didn't want to see the chair she sat in every day cleaning swords empty. He didn't want to take his noon meal alone. She wasn't like her mother. She didn't scoff at their habits or their ways, she embraced the chance to learn of new lives even when she didn't necessarily agree with them on everything. How sad it was to think that he would never walk in to see Lucy cleaning swords and grinning up at him again.

"Aren't you going to say anything, Lucy?" Her mother asked her with twinkling eyes. "Aren't you glad?"

"I'm glad you're pleased, Mum." Lucy said respectfully. "But I'm not at all glad to have to leave here, I like it."

"You _like _it?" Helen repeated incredulously. "We're only servants here, in your new father's house we will be nobles, my girl."

"That's nice." Lucy said quietly, not really caring about being nobility. "When's the wedding?"

"In four months." Helen told her.

At least I'll get to stay here with Edmund and Digory for four more months, Lucy thought sadly, at least I'll still have that little bit of time with them before I have to go. Oh, and maybe Peter will take me to visit them here once in a while; he has always been kind and he's friend's with Ed, too.

"I haven't told you the best part, daughter." Helen said, almost indifferent to Lucy's gloominess. "We don't have to spend another night here. Not one more! Lord Pevensie has so thoughtfully agreed to pay for us to stay at one of the finest inns in all of Narnia until the wedding."

Lucy felt her heart drop. Wasn't her mother listening? She didn't want to leave Digory and Edmund. Didn't she care? Didn't she remember how it had been the scholarly swordsmen that took them in off the streets and _not_ Lord Pevensie?

Willing herself not to cry, Lucy bit her lip.

Edmund glared at Helen. How quickly and easily her former beggar status was forgotten in favor of being a lady and going off to live somewhere grand until the day of the wedding! If only Helen would go and leave Lucy behind with them.

"Pack your things." Helen told her daughter, tossing her head back proudly. "Tonight we leave."

"Must we?" Lucy blurted out meekly.

"Yes, go pack your things." Helen said. "And I'll pack mine."

Edmund looked over at his grandfather waiting for him to speak up. Surely he will tell Helen that she was indebted to him for his kindness and _had_ no things. Tell her how rude it was to barely even be saying a proper goodbye to them at all and to be yanking Lucy away like this.

But all Digory said was, "I suppose you will be happy now, Helen?"

"Yes, I suppose I will." Helen said curtly, leading Lucy out of the shop and back up towards the house.

That's it? Edmund thought bitterly, that's all your going to say to that ungrateful snob? It hardly seems right, it's completely unjust. You're just going to let her get away with that? Don't we have a right to fight back? Shouldn't we?

As if understanding what his grandson was thinking about, he gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you don't want Lucy to leave, Edmund."

"Can we keep her then?" Edmund blurted out hopefully. "Please?"

Digory smiled at him weakly. "What fool would let a female child be taken away from her mother who is about to enter into nobility and agree to let her live with two craftsmen?"

"I'll be nobility someday, when I'm a knight." Edmund pointed out.

"It's not the same, it would be frowned upon." Digory sighed. "I wish it were different, I wanted her to stay with us, too."

"What if she was an apprentice?" Edmund tried, racking his brain for anything that might help. "We've already started teaching her everything we know and maybe she-"

Digory was already shaking his head. "Helen would never allow her daughter to work for us now that she's a lady."

"Does this mean I have to call her 'Lady Lucy' from now on?" Edmund moaned, wrinkling his nose.

"Only in public." Digory chuckled good-naturedly.

"Maybe she could just stay with us for the four months before the wedding, Helen can go where ever she wants to until then but-"

"I suppose I could ask if Lucy could stay with us for that time period although a positive answer is doubtful." Digory decided.

"She doesn't even really care about Lucy." Edmund growled.

"Come now, you don't know that." Digory told him in a warning tone. "She's just strong-willed. A mite too determined but she hasn't really wronged us."

"I suppose not." Edmund grumbled.

"I doubt she'll let her stay, Edmund." Digory said, looking sadly down at the polishing rag left on the chair. "I think you'd best go see her and say your goodbyes while you still can, I'll go talk to Helen."

Lucy didn't have much to pack up. She had a hair brush, some clothing, a small-rather ugly-wooden doll she'd named, Leah, which she'd brought with her from Ettinsmoor (It wasn't nice enough to be collected for debts or traded with vendors so she had been allowed to keep it), three hair ribbons, and a painfully boring book on etiquette that her mother forced her to read. That was about it. Tears slid down the bridge of her nose as she folded everything slowly into a tight neat roll.

"Everything will grow mildew if you keep on like that." Edmund joked in a soft, comforting tone as he walked into the reclining room to say goodbye. Helen was in another room talking to Digory so it was just the two of them now.

"I don't care." Lucy whispered.

"We're going to ask your mum if you can stay." Edmund said, hoping to cheer her up.

"She's going to say no." Lucy sighed, shaking her head, unwilling to allow herself to hope.

"I know." Edmund told her, exhaling heavily.

"I'll still come visit." Lucy promised.

"How often?" Edmund wanted to know.

"As often as I can." Lucy said.

Edmund fought back the urge to cry at the word 'often'; he hated that word. Because seeing Lucy often wouldn't be at all the same as seeing her everyday. Of course this had to happen. Lucy and Helen had to leave them eventually but them going off like this felt wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly but something wasn't right. He had the most horrible feeling that them going to live with Lord Pevensie was a mistake.

After all, think of Peter and Susan. Did either of them smack of sunshine and happiness in childhood? Both were miserable, withdrawn, lonely, and largely unloved. There was nothing but fear and secrets and all they really had was one another and maybe Tumnus. Lord Pevensie was a busy man, what good was he to them? Yet, Helen seemed out-right blinded to this simply because of money and high titles. Edmund could never understand a woman like that. Was that really what she-Helen-wanted to put her daughter into? Had she even thought about that? Or had she-as was far more likely-taken one look at that house and one glance at it's decent-looking widowed owner and leaped without thinking?

"Lucy, it's time to go." Helen called into the room, her own few possesions tucked under her arm.

"Goodbye, Ed." Lucy threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"Bye, Lu." Edmund said in a choked up voice.

Lucy hugged Digory goodbye too. "I'll miss you, professor."

"If you ever need anything, Lucy." He said, pulling away and looking her in the eye. "Don't think twice about coming to look for me. The shop will always be there with it's doors open to you as will my home."

"Thank you." Lucy said, blinking back her remaining tears.

"Lucy!"

"Coming, Mum." She sighed, looking back through the door frame at the scholarly swordsmen whom she had grown so fond of.

**AN: Please review!**


	8. Carriage Ride

**AN: This chapter pretty much is completely about Lucy's carriage ride to the inn she and Helen are going to stay at until Helen gets married to Lord Pevensie. I at first intended for that event to be only a few paragraphs in the story but once I started writing out how Lucy was feeling and what she was seeing and what everyone she was passing by was thinking it just got longer and longer until, rather than being a few short paragraphs it was just one _chapter_! So because of that, they wont arrive at the inn until chapter nine. LOL. Anyway, hope you like it. **

Lucy had expected to walk to the inn but Helen knew right from the start that the only steps they would have to take would be three inches from the scholarly swordsmen's house.

Waiting for them outside was a pretty pale-yellow carriage pulled by two slim light-hoofed centaurs who worked as servants in Lord Pevensie's house. The first was dapple-gray on his horse half and white-as-snow on his exposed human face and slightly chunky torso. The other seemed younger than the first, perhaps he was his brother or else his son, with copper-coloured flanks and olive-completion human skin.

"Good day." The eldest centaur said, nodding respectfully at them.

"Hullo." Lucy smiled at him.

Helen muttered something like a formal greeting before a faun footman stepped off the back ledge of the carriage and offered to help them get in.

Because she had been looking back over her shoulder to take one last look at the home and shop they were leaving, Lucy hadn't seen her mother get in and wasn't sure what to do. Was she supposed to give the faun her hand so he could sort of pull her up or was she supposed to let him push up on her elbow? Maybe she was supposed to step with her feet first...no, that didn't seem right. Having only ridden in a carriage once when she was about three or four, this was quite a complex situation for her. She racked her brain to recall if there was anything about this in that dull etiquette book but her mind couldn't seem to pull up any information.

Her mother looked out the window, glancing despairingly at Lucy wondering what on earth was taking her so long. Couldn't she just get in the carriage so they could get away from this place at once? Wasn't she at all eager to leave her servitude behind? Of course if Helen had really understood her daughter at all, the answer would have been candidly obvious but she was far too focused on her own feelings in the matter and wrongly assumed her daughter felt the same way.

Nearly crying from mere frustration at this point, Lucy almost broke down settling on the notion of asking the centaurs if they knew what part of her arm she was supposed to extend to the poor faun who was waiting so patiently for her.

Would everything about being a lady be this difficult from now on? Her mother always made it seem like nobility was the easy life but this certainly didn't prove that theory. Wadding through muddy ponds to go fishing and studying from worn-out books seemed far, far, easier than this. Such a simple thing made so very complicated. And she didn't dare mess it up; what would mother say if she disgraced their ascent into ladyship?

Finally, the faun ended up with the side of her shoulder and awkwardly had to lift her up towards the silver foot-step. Never in all her eleven years of life, had she felt like such a bumpkin. Not even at her most embarrassing of times. Thankfully, no one was around to witness her stumble and her mother was too relieved to finally be leaving to bother with a scolding of any kind. Rather, she simply told her to be more careful in the future because they were sure to be in carriages a lot more often now and it wouldn't do to fall, get injured, and give themselves away.

If the carriage had been pulled by non-talking horses and driven by a driver, they would have heard the flick of a light whip before feeling the engraved wooden wheels rolling far beneath them; in this case however, the centaurs merely started moving as soon as they knew Helen and Lucy were seated.

Helen seemed somewhere between anxious for the ride to be over and proud to be having the ride at all. She held her head high with her proud eye-lids half closed and seemed to take little real notice of anything they passed.

Lucy on the other hand, couldn't get enough of the view. At first she had felt rather sick from the constant motion and thought perhaps her mother had the right idea. She held her own head up a little higher but because her eyes landed on the horizon, her motion sickness ended and she didn't need to close them.

She could look at all the interesting things they passed and think about them. All of Narnia seemed so different when you were this high up rolling along at such a speed. The shops and roads looked smaller, the people and creatures became almost doll-sized from a distance, and the strange shadow the carriage cast rolled along changing the light on the once-familiar roads below.

Some of the more lowly workers took of their caps and lowered their heads as she peered at them through the carriage window. Why on earth would they do that? Just because Helen was marrying Lord Pevensie? Surely he wasn't _that_ important! Not so important that a plain girl with hair that needed to be washed, donning a simple dress of no fine fabrics, could be treated in such a way. Yet, that seemed to be the case.

How strange life is, Lucy thought as one of the carriage wheels rolled over a bump in the road causing her to bounce up and nearly hit her head on the carriage's roof, not so very long ago they didn't like us at all, we were just dirty beggars of no real value. Then, we were just servants to someone who was higher than us. Now we matter. Surely, we're still the same people though; I don't feel any different. And yet, there doesn't seem even to be a line even as thin as an eyelash connecting me or mother to our former selves. It's just too peculiar for words, really.

And there were all the of the little gutter children peering at them through broken bits of glass they found on the streets to play with, casting rainbow lights around their other-wise hopelessly bleak dwellings. They saw little Lucy who they knew couldn't be very much older than they themselves were and all thought the same thing, wasn't she terribly lucky to be going somewhere in a large pretty thing like that instead of pleading for food like them.

Further up the line; servant children, not so poor as their beggarly neighbors, watched the carriage, too. Lucy was something of a mystery to them. Who was this strange little girl who had been lower than their lowest pleaders in Narnia and had suddenly risen to their level and was now to be soaring high above them? She was one of them-sort of and she was going to be the daughter of a lady! Goodness, life was so full of surprises, wasn't it?

"Mama," One little girl only a year younger than Lucy, carrying a basket of eggs back from the marketplace whispered to her mother. "Is she going to be a princess?"

"Close enough." Her mother whispered back. "If not even a little better. She'll have all the luxuries and none of the trouble of ruling over anything."

"She is so lucky." sighed the girl's younger sister. "Will she have lots of pretty dresses, Mama?"

"Hundreds, I reckon." Their mother shrugged. "Now don't stare at her too long, it isn't nice and it's terrible unnerving I'm sure."

"The carriage has already passed." The girl reminded her.

"Fine then."

"If she's a lady, does she still have to clean swords?" their little cousin, Ronnie, who was only four and had seen Lucy working before, asked them.

"Don't be silly!" They laughed. "Of course not!"

"She'll never even have to touch _dirt_ again." The first girl added for emphasis.

"She wont have much fun." Ronnie decided, mournfully. "Poor girl."

And they all laughed at him again for his innocence thinking him quite a silly, ignorant child.

A little while later, they passed Lord Pevensie's house and Lucy looked hard at it, trying to see if she could make herself feel glad that she was going to live there. It was a beautiful house, such a grand place. _A king's palace_, She reminded herself.

Still, she could stir no emotion in her heart. She couldn't make herself feel anything towards the place that would soon be her home. Not love nor disgust nor even indifference. It was simply there and they were simply rolling passed it. It was like something out of a story book where everything is pretty but the characters aren't well drawn out in the least-they are aloof, so you can't feel anything towards them or the places in the book. Everyone in that house-with the near exception of Peter who she at least knew enough about to be fond of-was very, very aloof.

Speaking of aloof, Lucy caught a glimpse of Susan in the window as they passed and tried to meet her eyes. Strangely enough, unlike the faces of other people she passed, Susan's didn't seem to have changed since the last time they'd seen each other. Her expression still smacked of, 'You aren't supposed to be here'

She's right, Lucy realized now that perhaps Susan's words that day had had more than one meaning. _You aren't supposed to be here._

Susan didn't flinch in her window seat or squirm the way Lucy knew she would have done in her place. She just sat there looking hard-but with no real anger, only sadness-at the passing carriage. She knew who was in it and she knew why Lucy's expression was filled with such curiousness.

"Draw the curtains." Helen ordered, leaning her neck back over the cushioned seat.

"But I wont be able to see..." Lucy started to protest.

"Do as I say, child." Helen said shortly. "There's entirely too much sun in here and I fear letting you lean out like that much longer will give you more chance to fall right out the window."

"I wont fall out." Lucy told her, feeling rather insulted. She wasn't _that_ clumsy!

"Lucy!" Her mother said testily.

"Yes, mum." She sighed, reaching for the two-inch thick silk rope that held the crimson curtains in place.

Looking out at the Narnia below her one last time before sliding the drapes shut all the way, she saw Susan close her own window and latch the lion-clasp firmly in place.

Now at last, Lucy felt something towards her soon-to-be-home. A real, non-hidden emotion that words could actually be used to describe. One word anyway, fear.

**AN: In the next chapter: Lucy and her mother will arrive at the inn and...well you'll have to wait to find out...LOL! In the meantime, please review! **


	9. Howling Inn

The inn was a brown-stone building with a fine line of dark green ivy growing along the thick walls centered around a dark glass-front door that read, "_The Lion's Den_" in elegant script letters.

The wheels of the carriage stopped turning and the sound of the centaurs' hooves hitting the cobblestone ceased.

Lucy sat gawking at the front of the inn through the carriage's open door until she noticed one of the faun footmen extending their hand out to help her. This time, rather than fuss over which way to allow him to help her, she simple gave him her hand and hoped it was correct for a lady of the status she was soon to enter into.

The faun winked at her when Helen's back was turned and a smile of relief found it's way onto Lucy's face. Maybe things wouldn't be so awful after all. She was still nervous, still horribly afraid, but the idea that not everything about being a lady and having servants was somber was reassuring.

As soon as they took one step towards the door, it flew open and a cheery-faced woman wearing what was the most hideous brightly-coloured headdress Lucy had ever seen (It was red and blue with fake cherries and gray feathers hanging off of it) and a little girl about her own age dressed in a rose-coloured gown with a white apron in the front stood there, ready to greet them.

"Welcome, your ladyship." The woman said, pressing her palms together as a sign of respect. Turning to the little girl she added, "Marjorie, say hello to our guests."

"Madams." Marjorie greeted them in modern Narnian, sweeping the most perfect curtsy Lucy had ever seen anyone under the age of sixteen perform. She didn't wobble even slightly and if her knees had creaked at all, Lucy hadn't heard it.

"Pleased to meet you." Lucy stretched her arm out, excepting to shake hands with the girl. "I'm Lucy."

Marjorie stared at her blankly.

"You shake it." Lucy told her.

"Why?" Marjorie asked, taking a step back and looking at her with a coy sort of curiosity.

"I..." She had to admit she was stumped. "I don't know; people do it when they meet each other."

"Well there wasn't anything about it in my etiquette book." Marjorie apologized, turning a little red in the face. "I'm sorry if I've offended your ladyship."

The woman smiled at Marjorie approvingly thinking of how well she was going to do in society.

It took all Lucy had not to roll her eyes. How terribly silly all this fuss was. Marjorie was a much finer lady than Lucy was, why was she so timid? They were practically peers. Both were young and studied etiquette, what difference did a simple misunderstanding make?

"Marjorie, please show the young lady to her bed chamber and see that she is provided with anything she needs, I will see to Lady Helen." The woman told her.

"Yes, missus." Marjorie said, gently and unexpectedly taking Lucy's roll away from her. "Let me carry that for you, lady."

"Follow Maid Marjorie." Helen told her daughter.

Lucy nodded and followed her over the flawlessly gloss-finished wooden threshold and onto the soft shaggy carpeting.

"I am glad you've come, Lady." Marjorie said in a low breathy voice which she had been taught all her life was the sort of tone a proper girl ought to use when addressing anyone of a higher rank than herself. "We haven't had any young guests in a while. The adults are lovely, generous tippers as well, but, oh, I have missed seeing other children."

"Marjorie, couldn't you just call me Lucy?" She flat out asked.

She shook her head. "You're a lady."

"Not yet I'm not." Lucy pointed out.

"Your mother is betrothed to Lord Pevensie." Marjorie said flatly. "By all rights, that makes you a lady."

That didn't make much sense to Lucy. Susan was a lady because her mother was a lady and her father was a lord. Like-wise, Peter was a 'master' because he was the blood-related son of a lord, and would someday be a lord himself. They were the ones who had the rights Marjorie spoke so bluntly of. They were the pure breeds. She and Helen, why they were only mutts. Lucy wasn't even sure of the exact line her mother came from other than the fact that she was a Scrubb.

If I had come to the inn on that first day, Lucy thought, I'd have been either thrown out or pitied and perhaps given a rind of cheese to gnaw on before being sent away. Now though, they seem to mistake me for a queen who could say, "Off with their heads!" at the slightest offence.

"This way, Lady." Marjorie corrected meekly when she noticed Lucy heading in the wrong direction, leading her towards a cork-shaped spiral staircase which was covered in emerald green carpeting.

"Are you sure I can't help you carry my roll?" Lucy blurted out.

"Oh no, Lady." Marjorie answered, unshaken. "I can manage. It's my job and it isn't very heavy."

"Thank you." Up until this point, Lucy had been speaking to her only in modern Narnian but now she reverted to English.

Marjorie looked taken aback. "Lady...you speak English?"

"Well...yes." Lucy told her.

"Oh, I am glad!" Marjorie grinned at her. "I can speak Narnian fine but I've always found it easier to converse in English-it was my first language you see...no one else around here prefers it and a proper young lass must not insist upon her own preferences."

"Oh, I remember reading that in the etiquette book my mum gave me." Lucy laughed.

"Isn't it awful?" Marjorie risked saying, starting to feel a little more comfortable around Lucy now. "I know it's important and I'm trying so hard to respect that but..."

"It's simply too dull to force yourself to really like?" Lucy finished for her.

"Oh, you understand!" Marjorie sighed happily. "I feel like a horrible person when all the other girls seem to be so interested in learning it and I know I'm only pretending."

"You are better than I am." Lucy laughed. "You'd never say it to an adult out loud-I'm sure."

"You didn't!" Giggled Marjorie, taking one hand off the roll and putting it to her mouth.

"In my defense, it was late at night and I was only six at the time." She confessed, turning a little red in the face.

"Was your mother very angry?"

"I was sent to bed without supper that night."

"Well, at least you can't say you threw a shoe at an honored guest when you were five."

"You didn't!" Lucy gasped, laughing so hard she nearly slipped and fell down the stars.

Marjorie smiled. "I did."

Lucy smiled back and lifted her foot up onto the final soft green step which took them to a cerulean-carpeted hallway the walls of which were covered with paintings of powered-faced women in absurdly voluminous gowns.

"This way, lady." Marjorie said, her tone returning to it's former perfectly formal state as she motioned to an open doorway.

What Lucy now saw was large, bright, clean room with a full-sized bed covered by a pale pink silk comforter and a dresser so well polished and shinned up that you could almost see your reflection in it.

"You can put your things in the trunk by the foot of the bed and there's extra storage in the wardrobe." Marjorie explained, placing the roll down near the trunk.

Extra storage was the last thing Lucy needed. None of this felt real. Why was all this set out for her? Was she really the same girl who had slept on cushions that smelled like man-sweat for so long? Was she the same girl who had felt the cold chilly air of the marketplace in the late fall and early winter as her numb fingers stuck to her egg and fish basket? She herself didn't feel any different but everything around her sure did.

"Are these all your things, lady?" Marjorie asked, moving her hands and looking down at her feet while she spoke.

"Yes." Lucy told her, unfolding her roll and taking out 'ugly Leah'.

"I suppose Lord Pevensie will have new dresses made for your and your mother soon." Marjorie said absent-mindedly.

"What's wrong with the clothes I've got now?" Lucy wondered aloud, sounding a little sharper than she meant to. She knew her dresses were plain and a small part of her did think it would be splendid to have just one really pretty gown but the garments she had now had been paid for by Digory and Edmund. In a way, it felt almost like her last connection with them.

"Pray don't be offended, Lady." Marjorie blurted out pleadingly. "I didn't mean it, your ladyship."

Lucy sighed deeply. She was liking Marjorie very much but it would be difficult to have a friendship with someone who refused to talk back to you for fear of causing offence and kept on calling you 'Lady' and 'your ladyship'. Would all her lower-class friendships have to be like this from now on? She thought of Edmund; if he ever started bowing to her and addressing her as, 'Your ladyship' she wouldn't know whether to burst into tears or laugh hysterically.

"Is there anything else you desire, Lady?" Marjorie asked, backing towards the door. "I shall be needed downstairs shortly."

Lucy asked where the wash bin was, thinking about how horrified Helen would be if she was to skip cleaning behind her ears tonight.

"It's over near the window on that long black stool with the towel rack." She told her.

"Thank you, Marjorie." Lucy said, about to put 'ugly Leah' on the bed when she noticed a beautiful golden-haired doll in a pretty brown frock already seated there. "Who is this?"

"Oh, do you like her?" Marjorie asked with a pleased smile. "We put her in rooms where children stay sometimes. She's getting a little old, you may keep her if you like."

Although perhaps growing a little old for dolls, Lucy had always secretly longed for a pretty play-thing because she had never had one before (with the exception of a silver spinning top which had had to be sold back when she was only seven or eight).

"I can keep her?"

"I don't see why not." Marjorie shrugged. "We have others."

"I'll call her 'Rachel'." Lucy decided, setting Leah down beside her. "They can be friends."

"Is that your only doll?" Marjorie fought back a gasp at the sudden realization.

"Yes." Lucy admitted. _See? I'm no more a 'ladyship' than you are a grand duchess!_

"Well, I must be leaving now."

"Will you come back soon?" Lucy asked hopefully.

"I will try." Marjorie promised, curtsying again.

When is she ever going to stop that? Lucy thought to herself, doesn't that hurt her legs? Don't her knees ache even a little from all that bending? It's practically exercise!

Suddenly, a piercing howl echoed through the inn. Marjorie looked stricken. Lucy shuddered.

"What was that?" Lucy asked breathlessly, feeling rather afraid all of a sudden.

"What was what?" Marjorie pretended she didn't know what she was talking about.

"That awful cry." Lucy said.

"Crying?" Marjorie turned a little red and did the first unlady-like thing Lucy had ever seen her do; she stuck her thumbnail in her mouth. "It was probably a guest with a baby."

"Babies don't howl like that." Lucy wasn't stupid and could sense her anxiety. "It was more like an animal."

"I didn't hear anything." Marjorie lied, taking her nail out of her mouth and pressing both hands tightly against her apron. "Please forgive me, your ladyship." She curtsied and rushed out of the room. "Supper is in an hour."

"Ugh." Lucy moaned, falling back onto her bed. This was going to be tiring! And she _had_ heard a real howl. She knew Marjorie had heard it, too. Also, she had to have known what it really was even thought she wouldn't admit it.

Later, Lucy and her mother sat in the inn's dinning hall with the rest of the guests, most of whom eagerly spoke to Helen knowing well whom she was going to marry soon. No one took any notice of Lucy at all so she sat quietly, wishing Marjorie didn't have to eat her meals in the kitchen with the rest of the staff so that she could have sat out here with her.

A loud ear-shattering whimper rang through the hall, followed by another howl like the one Lucy had heard before and then something like an angry bark.

"Good heavens!" Gasped Helen, looking to the left and then to the right. "What was that?"

"It was only the dog next door." The woman whom Marjorie worked for said quickly. "He begs too loudly sometimes."

It wasn't an ordinary dog, Lucy thought somewhere between bitterly and excitedly, it was something else; it had to have been. No simple dog could make that sound. There was a secret here.****

**AN: -Please review!-**


	10. Maugrim's Arch

**AN: For anyone who's wondering when Edmund and Digory will come back into the story, they will probably be back by the next chapter. **

Only five mind-numbing minutes into her meeting with the tailors and seamstresses who were to make a new wardrobe for her, Lucy came to one conclusion: Maybe the rich almost _earn_ their pretty clothes by standing still for so long while being stabbed at with pins and having measuring tape wrapped around every inch of their bodies.

Helen had told Lucy to be good and to stand exactly where and how the tailors told her to before going off into another room to be tried for her own wardrobe, but who knew behaving like a lady could be such a struggle? What she wouldn't have given just to be a very little bit younger so a teeny bit of squirming might have been allowed! The seamstresses were getting frustrated with her as it was though.

"Little lady," One of them said, sucking in her cheeks while she spoke. "Could you please lift your leg up? Don't you feel the tailors pulling at it?"

"Hmm?" Lucy said absent-mindedly.

The seamstress rolled her eyes. "Your leg, _lift_ it."

Lucy looked down at the leg which had a long white ribbon with measurement markings wrapped around it twice and caught the eye of a very weary-looking tailor who seemed to be about sixty or so.

"Oh!" Lucy gasped apologetically, lifting up her leg and struggling not to fall off the small wooden stool she was standing on while doing so. "Sorry."

The head seamstress squinted despairingly at her. Lord Pevensie's soon-to-be stepdaughter was simply impossible! She couldn't hold still or keep her balance for more than three minutes without something going wrong.

On the bright side, they were having an easier time with her than they had had with his real daughter years before when she had been only a little younger than Lucy was now. She had been a near perfect child before being kidnapped but afterwards tailors shuddered at the mere suggestion dealing with her and often had to be paid double or even triple their usual prices just to agree to come at all. Not only would the little brat not hold still but she would burst into tears quite unexpectedly. One time, she kicked at the tailor nearest to her and then ran off and locked herself in a closet. It took almost an hour before her brother was able to coax her back out into the room.

"Let's try the model on for size." One of the tailor's suggested, lifting up a dress made of gray-purple taffeta and slipping it over Lucy's head. He stood back and said studied the effect.

The waist had to be taken in just a little at the sides. A new slightly darker sash would need to be added to match the black-lace which was to be added to the bottom of the final product. It would need larger buttons on the cuffs as well. Other than that, it fit well and Lucy couldn't help looking at herself in the mirror with some surprise. Though she was still no great beauty, she had to admit the tailors and seamstresses were masters; somehow they had managed to make her look a little less plain. The dress fit better than anything Lucy could ever remember having worn before and it wasn't even near finished yet. This was just the example of one of the dresses that would be in her wardrobe-which she had told would contain at least fifty different articles of clothing. Fifty! How was she ever going to manage to keep that much fabric neat?

"You can get down now, your ladyship." The head seamstress told her, signaling to the others to start folding up the extra fabric while she stuck her pins back in their red velvet cushion. "That will be all for today's fitting."

Finally! Lucy thought happily, stepping down and reaching for the bottom of her dress so she could pull it back up over her head.

The howl Lucy had heard just the other day echoed through the inn again. It did sound almost dog-like but not quite. There seemed to be something else in the howl that made it just a little different. Not exactly the sort of sound that a normal house-hold pet would make. More wild and even beautiful in a bone-chilling, icy sort of way.

She let go of the end of the dress; she could change out of it later. Now, she wanted to find out what that sound was. Creeping along the wall hoping the seamstresses and tailors wouldn't notice her leaving, she slid her arms along the side-trimmings and painted rose-buds that led to the door. She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and slipped out of the room altogether.

The clock struck nine-it was in the middle of the afternoon-someone must have turned it back the wrong way when it was their turn to wind it up.

Walking along the hallway, listening carefully for another howl or whimper, Lucy realized that it might have been wiser to have changed before going in search of whatever creature was making those wonderfully horrible sounds. this dress was nearly an inch longer in the skirt than her former clothing had been and she kept getting her bare toes stuck in the hem of the unfinished lining. She wished she'd remembered to put on shoes.

Another howl-a little less intense than the first one rang out followed by a long whimper.

There was the sound of one of the maid's trying to convince a group of girls around the age of nineteen that they had heard naught but the sound of the neighbor's dratted dog making a ruckus.

Lucy followed the howl down towards a wall-a dead end. She hoped for another howl. Her wish was granted, it was coming from behind the wall. Was something trapped inside it? She pressed her hands against it hard and was amazed to see it give way with little more than an almost non-existent creak, revealing a passage of stone stairs. She hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath and started walking down.

It was almost completely dark with no lamps or windows anywhere in sight. There were about only seven steps in all then it was a long seemingly never-ending tunnel of blackness. Finally there was clear bright sparkling-white light in a sort of circle ahead. The sudden brightness against the dark walls made Lucy's eyes hurt and her head ache a little. She stumbled over the edge of her dress, pulling it up in her hands (It was surely hopelessly wrinkled now, Helen would not be pleased when she saw it) in bunches so she could step up onto the block she felt her left big toe strike against.

Stepping up into the light, Lucy stood and blinked in sheer amazement. Although she suspected they were below ground-level, there was still a sort of light very much like that from the sun pouring in all around. Below her feet were painted tiles that looked like a large winter-rose in the center of this room which had a tall cloudy-glass, cathedral-like round roof supported by large pillars with gold ivy patterns engraved all around them centered about a small dark arch which seemed to be what the whole room's purpose was.

"Hello?" Lucy called out nervously, taking a step along the titles towards the arch.

A black moist-looking nose stuck out of the archway.

Lucy bravely-or maybe stupidly-took another step forward.

A full mouth appeared in the light and bared it's teeth, letting out a low growl.

"Who's there?" Lucy asked, taking yet another-although much smaller-step towards the archway.

"Not one more step closer, Daughter of Eve." The lips snarled, a full head appearing now. "Not. One. More."

Lucy let out an involuntary gasp. A large gray-and-black wolf with gleaming dark green eyes stood before her. He was breath-takingly gorgeous in an evil way with his soft shaggy fur and stocky ribs.

"Stay away from me or I will tear you limb from limb." The wolf told her.

"Who are you?" Lucy asked timidly, unsure of how to feel towards him.

"I am the great Maugrim." He said, shaking the fur along his neck.

"I'm-" Lucy began.

"I know who you are, Lucy Pevensie." The great Maugrim said in a deep husky voice which was both lovely and dangerous at the same time.

Somehow this didn't feel like the right time to mention that she wasn't a Pevensie yet; she simply stood gawking with her eyes growing wider and wider.

"I know you are to be a lady, the new stepdaughter of Lord Pevensie." Maugrim said in a voice that was somewhere between informative and mocking.

"H-h-how do you know that?" Lucy stammered, feeling as if she was a person in a dream.

"Never mind, don't be fooled, lady. I am not a good creature." Maugrim warned. "Not by choice. I am a prisoner."

"Maybe I could..." It was at that moment that Lucy realized the wolf was held to the side of the arch by a thick chain attached to a silver collar that shown brightly in the seemingly supernatural light that still glistened all around them.

"Could what?" Laughed the wolf, his green eyes went gold then bright blood red before turning back to green. "Free me?"

"I..." She wasn't sure what she had been thinking but she could tell that the creature didn't like being chained up and if there was some way to reason with him and reach an agreement...

"Don't you know I would kill you the second you came close to me?" The wolf was fairly roaring with laughter now. His snarl looked like more of an amused smirk.

"Why would you do that?" Lucy asked softly, lowing herself onto her knees so that even though she wasn't any closer to Maugrim, they were now eye to eye.

"Because of a vow I made to myself when I was chained here years ago." He explained, sniffing the air and squinting at her.

"What happened?" Lucy wanted to know, running her fingers along the painted petal she was crouching over. "I mean, who caught you and how?"

"It was that blasted rotten stepbrother of yours." His snarl returned and his eyes gleamed red again. "He caught me when I was on a mission to destroy a family of talking mice. My vow was that if I was ever given the chance to kill any of his kin, I would not pass it up."

Lucy was liking this wolf less and less. The longer she spoke with him the more clearly she could see that he had been telling the truth about himself. He truly was wicked and cruel and no friend to the good-hearted Narnians. Also, the fact that he was against Peter-who had always been so kind to her-did not sit well with Lucy. Still, a small part of her continued to feel sorry for him in a strange, unexplainable way.

"As your mother is marrying his father, that would make you his kin." The wolf went on. "In truth, I am tired and don't feel like killing anything now and as you amuse me, I have no real wish to tear you apart but you mustn't come close enough to me to give me a chance to harm you-for I shall not break my vow."

"Are you sure?" Lucy asked, wondering if there was even a little bit of good she could bring out in him. "Maybe if there was something to distract you so you didn't realize you had a chance..."

"Stupid lady!" Growled Maugrim. "Don't be a fool. To free me would be to unleash me on your new family for I wouldn't spare them-or you and your mother for that matter." He paused and sniffed the air again. "Then, perhaps you would prefer to be eaten alive than to enter into a household like that."

"Like what?" Lucy asked feeling her blood running colder than ice through her veins.

"Remember Lady Lucy," Maugrim said very slowly, dragging along every single word, forming little O's with his mouth looking like he might let out a howl at any given moment. "Polished glass may shine brighter than a sand-covered diamond, but it breaks far, far easier." He lowered his head and fell to the floor.

Is he dead? Lucy wondered, feeling sick to her stomach. Then she heard snoring. He was only asleep, not dead.

With that, she lifted up her shirts, brushed a thin layer of dust and dry paint residue off her now slightly stained knees, and dashed back through the darkness unsure of what exactly the wolf had been telling-or perhaps warning-her about and why it mattered so much.

Hours later, after a firm scolding from her mother, Lucy crept back to the wall where she had found the entrance. It was sealed shut with no way of reopening the passage.

**AN: Please review!**


	11. Something Amiss

**AN: Okay, so this chapter starts a little after the last one left off and ends right on the day of the wedding. The wedding itself as well as the arrivel of Caspian and Miraz into the story and Lucy and Helen going to Lord Pevensie's house will be in the next chapter. **

It had been nearly two months ago that Lucy and Helen left and Edmund and Digory hadn't seen either of them since then. Lucy had wanted to go visit the scholarly swordsmen but she had been kept busy and wasn't allowed to go off by herself anywhere after as her mother put it, 'Making up mad tales about wolves in the basements'. Edmund might have gone to the inn to see her if he hadn't been busy studying and training for his future knighthood. The one time he managed to make it to the inn, he had found that she and her mother were out on a social errand of some sort and wouldn't return for at least five hours or so.

Mostly, he was forced to communicate indirectly with her through Peter who still came around to practice fencing with him every so often.

During his last visit, Peter told him that Lucy had discovered Maugrim at inn and had spoken with him.

"It's a wonder she didn't go too close out of curiosity and get killed!" Edmund marveled, blocking one of Peter's attempts to disarm him.

"I know." Peter agreed, holding on more tightly to the sword-hilt. "I can only think that maybe he...I don't know...warned her not to come close to him or something."

"That seems oddly out of character." Edmund said, jumping over Peter's sword blade as it came close to his legs. "Perhaps there is some good in _that_ _thing_ after all."

"I would like to say that's why I didn't kill him out-right but that would be a lie. I just didn't like killing things-I still hate the sight of blood to this day." Peter said sheepishly, clanking his sword against Edmund's as it blocked one of his most complicated blows. "Nice one, Ed."

"Thank you." Edmund said, taking a deep breath.

"Tired?" Peter asked him.

"A little." Edmund admitted.

"Respite?" Peter offered, lowering his sword.

"Yes, thank you." Edmund put down his own sword and took a seat on a nearby rock, easing his slightly sore self down slowly.

"So, I hear you are going to be invited to the wedding." Peter said informatively. "You'll be getting an invitation soon, I'm sure."

"Helen actually wants us at her wedding?" Edmund asked, raising an eyebrow up in surprise.

"Well, not exactly." Peter chuckled, sitting down on the rock beside him. "Helen said she didn't want you there. Father said tough luck and then a much of other stuff about investors and which invited lords not to allow near the ale barrels."

"I see." Edmund nodded.

"I wont be able to come back to train with you for a while, Ed." Peter told him, plucking out a nearby long piece of grass and running it along his fingers while he spoke.

"But we're still going to Cair Paravel next year for advanced training, right?" Edmund asked.

Peter hung his head a little. "I don't know."

"What do you mean?" Edmund crinkled his forehead. "You're already behind and if you don't go now it could be over five years before you get knighted."

Peter looked a little pained. "I know."

"Then what's wrong?" Edmund asked gently.

"Same thing that's always wrong, Edmund." Peter said with a trace of bitterness in his voice. "My overly dramatic life."

"It's a year away, Peter." Edmund reminded him. "Maybe by then..."

"Edmund...don't." Peter started.

"I thought..."

"There's just too much going on." Peter pointed out, letting go of the blade of grass and watching it flutter down slowly until it soundlessly hit the soft turf below.

"You mean with the new family coming?" Edmund asked.

"Ed, can you keep a secret?" Peter said, feeling that he very much needed someone to talk to at the moment.

"Yes, you know I can." Edmund said.

"I'm scared that if I leave, my father will marry Susan off to some random suitor just to get rid of her." Peter confessed. It was such a relief to say his fear out loud. "They don't get along, they always seem to be at odds about something or other and if I wasn't there to calm him down after one of the fights he might do something rash."

"Who do you think he'd marry her off to?" Edmund asked in a concerned tone.

"Most likely that horrible Tarkaan Rabadash." Peter shuddered. "I'd rather die than see my baby sister married to someone like that."

"But why didn't you say anything before?" Edmund wanted to know.

"Because I can't even begin to fathom how unlikely Helen and Susan getting along will be." Peter explained, sadly. "Susan likes Lucy, she told me so herself. But Helen's well...I know you may find this a little hard to believe but it's true...she's quite a bit like father, actually. And I know Susan doesn't like her now and will probably like her even less having to see her every day."

"Your father is a man of honour, in spite of whatever else he may be. maybe you could make him promise he wouldn't marry Susan off without your consent."

"Yes and maybe a giant lizard will come stomping through the streets of Narnia in a mad rampage!" Peter exclaimed sarcastically. "Father would laugh hysterically if I suggested he make such a promise."

"She's going to have to get married some day." Edmund sighed. "She can't live in her father's house for ever."

"No, but when she does get married it wont be to Rabadash, it will be to someone who can-and will-take good care of her." Peter said firmly.

"It's too bad you have to give up all your dreams to make sure of that." Edmund said softly. "You're a good brother to her, Peter. People can say what they like about you but they can't say you don't love your sister."

"It's not all you're making it out to be, Ed." Peter said practically. "I'm not giving up all of my dreams. I'm still going to practice art and study medicine like I've always wanted to and as to being a knight, there's still time for that yet. Also, how do you know I don't take care of her simply because she reminds me of mother?"

Edmund smiled at him. "Because I know _you_, Peter."

Peter smiled back warmly. It was good to know that no matter what happened, he would always have at least one true friend in the world.

"I think we've had more than enough rest." Edmund decided. "Ready to start another round?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Peter said, standing up and reaching for his sword.

When Digory heard that he and Edmund were invited to Lord Pevensie's wedding, he began work on a special sword for their gift. It would be long and thin bladed with a white gold hilt formed to look like a dove. Decorative but also swift and handy; so easy to wield that even a complete idiot could fight with it.

"I don't see why we have to waste good material on a sword they're not even going to pay us for." Edmund grumped, looking over his grandfather's charted out plans while they reclined to supper that night.

"Edmund," Digory sighed, lighting up his pipe and resting his arm back on one of the larger pillows. "When you go to a wedding, you bring a gift. It's just the way it is." He looked at his grandson sympathetically. "I know I let manners around here slide a bit but we can't show up to a wedding and not give them anything. That would be crossing a line."

Edmund snorted and tossed his head back in a very unappealing manner. "They already took our servants. Now they want a gift for it?"

Digory smiled weakly. "You miss her."

Edmund shook his head and looked down at the piece of bread he was eating.

Digory raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alright, I miss her a little." Edmund admitted.

Digory cocked his head in a very, 'Who exactly you think you're kidding, Edmund?' sort of way.

"Okay, okay." Edmund sighed heavily. "I miss her a lot."

"It's understandable, Edmund." Digory said kindly, reaching over and putting a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "You were good friends. It's alright even if you feel a little angry...I mean, it's only to be expected."

"I'm not angry...not anymore." Edmund said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Is it alright that I'm scared for her?"

Digory nodded. "Yes, it's alright."

"Good." Edmund sighed, staring distantly at nothing. "Because I am."

Digory closes his eyes, sighed to himself-inhaling deeply, and then opened then again. "I know."

"Peter's not going to Cair Paravel next year." Edmund told Digory.

"I wish I could say I was surprised."

"You aren't?"

"Not really."

"Is it alright that I'm a little scared for him, too?"

"Yes, I think that's only to be expected as well."

Edmund bit his lip. "Do you think maybe I shouldn't go either?"

"Is that what you want?"

"No." Edmund confessed freely. "It's not."

"Do you think your not going would help the Pevensies in any way?" Digory said practically.

"Well..." Edmund thought it over and had to admit that Digory had a point there. "...no, not really."

"Then logically, your best option would be to go." Digory said, taking another puff on his pipe.

"Do we really have to waste white gold on Helen?" Edmund asked somewhat obnoxiously. "Can't we just use plain metal on the hilt?"

"And have that prattling, gossip-loving, all-complaining woman say I cheaped out on her wedding gift?" Digory laughed. "Perhaps it's best to just give her something nice to shut her up in advance."

"I guess you're right."

"And look on the bright side." Digory elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Plenty of investors will see Lord Pevensie open it."

"True." Edmund chuckled.

Meanwhile, for Lucy, time started to both rush and drag by in the blur of her mother's wedding plans. What would the invitations look like? How soon must they be sent out? How long would the train on Helen's dress be and couldn't the tailors add more lace to the dress Lucy was to wear to the ceremony? Should any doves be released or did they have the droppings to worry about? Was this or that noble grand-or not grand-enough to be invited? Who shouldn't be over-looked? How many flowers would be needed and could they possibly be imported from rare gardens in Archenland? It was decided that the ceremony and reception was to be held in the west ballroom in Lord Pevensie's house (Yes, you read that right, the _west_ ballroom. Lord Pevensie's house also had an east ballroom, a south ballroom, and a north ballroom-no joke).

Then came the night before the wedding; their last night at the inn. Marjorie had been rather sad at the notion that Lucy would be leaving but they promised to keep in touch and their friendship was certainly improving. Lucy was fairly certain that soon Marjorie would stop calling her 'Lady' all the time and the thought was indeed quite cheering. Everything had been packed away and moved to Lord Pevensie's manor by now and the room which had been her home for four months seemed bare in the strangely chilly darkness all around her bed.

Rolling over, Lucy's eyes locked with the long silver sliver of moonlight that came in through the curtain gaps. It shone brightly in her eyes and she couldn't close them and fall asleep. Peeling back the covers, she climbed slowly out of bed and pulled the curtains open all the way. Looking out at the garden path leading to a small wood behind the inn, Lucy noticed a familiar young man walking by.

At first she thought it was Edmund and felt her cheeks flush with excitement because she hadn't seen him in so long but then that didn't seem quite right. This young man was clearly a bit older than Edmund was and even in the poor lighting, she could tell his hair wasn't dark like Ed's was. Also he was a good head or so taller and he carried himself in a rather different fashion. After a few moments of hard squinting, the answer came to her. It was Peter.

What on earth was he doing here? With a slight grunt and a little bit of struggling, Lucy managed to unlock the window and open it.

"Peter." She whisper-called.

He didn't hear her and kept walking.

Shrugging to herself, Lucy grabbed a gray woolen cloak and pulled it around her shoulders over her nightgown. Next she started to push herself out the window. It wasn't on the first floor so she had to hold on tightly to the window and then the thick expressive siding trims, slowly easing herself down. When she thought she could take no more of strain on her back and the pain from her cramped fingers, she found much to her delight and relief that her left foot was now only an inch or so from the ground.

She was glad all the windows below had their curtains shut. Otherwise they might see her and perhaps tell Helen who was sure to be angry about her sneaking out the night before the wedding.

Once her feet were safely on the grass below, Lucy started off towards the woods, trying to catch up with Peter. In the pale moonlight, she could see the imprints of his boots on the moist ground. They stopped at a tall tree under which, Peter was sitting with his head leaned back against the trunk and his eyes half-closed.

"Peter!" Lucy whisper-called.

His eyes opened all the way and he blinked at her in confusion for a moment before recognizing her.

"Lucy?" He sat up a little straighter. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you go by and I wanted to see if you were alright." Lucy explained sort of quietly, sitting down next to him.

"I'll be fine." Peter smiled at her.

"What are you doing out here?" Lucy asked.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "I just needed some time to think, I guess."

"I'm sorry." Lucy blurted out, feeling guilty for coming after him when apparently company was the last thing he wanted at the moment.

Peter looked at her sadly. "No, Lucy, _I'm_ sorry."

"What for?" Lucy crinkled her forehead at him.

"This isn't fair to you." Peter sighed again, sounding very grave.

"What isn't?" Lucy asked, feeling somewhere between annoyed and fearful.

He shook his head. "I can't explain it to you, I'm sorry for that as well."

"You smell funny." Lucy couldn't help saying. "Have you been drinking?"

Peter turned a little red in the face. "I'm not drunk, Lucy."

"I know." Lucy said kindly.

"I just had a little and I spilled it on my tunic by accident." Peter said hastily.

"You don't have to defend yourself in front of me." Lucy told him gently.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"So your mum is marrying my father tomorrow." Peter said twiddling his thumbs a little as he spoke.

"Yeah." Lucy smiled weakly.

"Are you excited?"

"No."

Peter nodded. "Good, you shouldn't be."

"There's something the matter with your family isn't there?" Lucy wanted to know.

"Yes."

"Can't you tell me?" Lucy said almost pleadingly.

"I can't." Peter said.

"Is it about your sister?" Lucy persisted.

"Yes." Peter admitted.

"I see." suddenly Lucy felt a little tired and decided not to ask anymore questions.

Peter started to lean back against the tree and close his eyes again.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?"

Lucy had a question for him she had long wanted to ask. "Do you know Aslan?"

Peter smiled. "No."

Lucy was a little disappointed. "Oh."

"But he knows me." Peter told her.

"Oh!" Lucy's face lit up a bit and she smiled. "You've met him then?"

"Yes."

"What's he like?"

"Golden, understanding, good." Peter yawned. "Pretty much like everything you've ever heard about him."

"I'd like to meet him one day." Lucy confessed.

Peter stared at her for a moment. "I think you will."

"I hope so."

"I wish he could come roaring in and save us all." Peter said, yawning harder now.

"Save us from what?"

Peter didn't answer, he'd fallen asleep.

Lucy yawned, feeling a bit sleepy herself. Her eyelids felt heavy all of a sudden.

Hour's later, her eyes shot open. It was early morning now and she was still in the woods. Peter was still out cold. How was it that no wild animals or bad creatures had come after either of them all night? Glancing over to her right, there was a large golden paw.

Aslan! She thought excitedly, but as soon as she got up to go after him, he was gone and she was left with no choice but to go back to the tree and wake Peter so that they wouldn't be late for the wedding.

**AN: Well? So whatja think? Tell me! Please review. **


	12. No good wedding goes unpunished

**AN: If some of this is a little confusing, don't worry, it'll be explained in later chapters. **

The west ballroom was filled with well-dressed guests who spent the hour or so before the ceremony talking amongst themselves about various things. Edmund and Digory entered in among them, carrying the sword they'd made for the wedding present wrapped in a tight buddle.

Edmund couldn't help rolling his eyes at the sight of the overly-elaborate decorations hanging from every corner of the room.

"Edmund?" A small excited-sounding voice behind him said.

"Lucy!" He blurted out excitedly, dropping the sword completely into his grandfather's arms and spinning around to face her; nearly knocking the hilt into Digory's nose by accident. He forced back a gasp when he saw her. She looked so different!

She was dressed head to toe in velvet finery and her hair was curled loosely at the tips. She was still short and thin but somehow that had become less noticeable. Could this really be the same plain servant he had explored the old attic with? Was this well-groomed lady the same waft of the world who had longed to hold a sword if only her mother would let her? Now instead of saw-dust and sword-polish in her hair there were little flowers pinned to stay in just the right places so they didn't shift accidentally.

"Hello." He said politely.

Lucy smiled at him for a moment as if restraining herself before pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh, Ed, I missed you!"

She may have looked like a lady but she still had the strong grip of servant girl.

Edmund pulled away after a moment. "I missed you, too."

"Hullo, Lucy." Digory smiled at her. "Where's your mother?"

"In her dressing room getting ready for the ceremony." Lucy told him. "She sent me down here to make sure the duke of Archenland isn't juggling the pears that are supposed to be part of the display."

"Oh no...what in the world is _he _doing here?" Edmund moaned randomly.

Lucy crinkled her forehead at him.

"I hate that man." Edmund explained, pointing to a foreign-looking man with a short curly beard and bright greedy eyes.

"Who is that?" Lucy asked, standing on her tipy-toes and squinting to get a better view of him. She had seen many lords since her mother had gotten betrothed to Lord Pevensie but she had never seen him before.

"The Lord Miraz." Digory whispered in her ear. "Usurper of Telmar." He leaned a little closer to Lucy and pointed to a young man standing beside Miraz. "That's his nephew, the Prince of Telmar."

"What's he like?" Lucy wondered, noticing that he had a nicer-looking face than his uncle.

Edmund shrugged his shoulders. "No one really knows. We don't see much of him over here in Narnia; Usually Miraz comes alone."

"What's his name?" Lucy wanted to know.

Digory shut his eyes half way and pursed his lips, trying to remember. "What was it...now, let me think...Trapian...no, that's not it...er...Khaspeen...no wait...that's not it either...I'll get it..." He shook his head at Edmund. "Don't tell me..." He snapped his fingers, finally remembering. "Caspian."

"Strange name." Lucy commented.

"In Narnia, perhaps." Digory agreed. "It's probably quite a common name in Telmar."

"What is it you don't like about him?" Lucy asked Edmund, motioning over in Miraz's direction.

Edmund looked torn as if trying to decide whether to let her in on some great secret and then having to come to the conclusion that he could not. "I'm sorry, Lucy, I can't tell you."

That seems to be the phrase of the week, Lucy thought, feeling rather huffy. First Peter, now Edmund. What exactly were they trying to hide and why? Were their secrets connected? It seemed unlikely but somehow Lucy almost got the feeling that they were not only connected, but also the same although she couldn't explain why, not even to herself.

She opened her mouth to say something but the wedding music-provided by three fauns with flutes and a two dwarfs working an organ-had already started and everyone who was in the wedding party was called away while everyone else was urged to find their seats.

"I have to go now, Edmund." Lucy told him apologetically, lifting up her skirt slightly so she could make a dash out of the ballroom back to where her mother expected her to be.

Edmund felt a surprising urge to grab her by the arm and blurt out, "Don't go!" He had missed her but he hadn't realized just how much until he had started talking to her now. He restrained himself and gave her a brief nod. He didn't have time to think about Lucy right now, he had to find Peter right away.

"Where are you going?" Digory asked, raising a gray eyebrow at his grandson, noticing he was making his way out of the ballroom.

"I need to tell Peter something." Edmund said, glancing at Miraz out of the corner of his eye.

"Now?" Digory asked.

"Yes, now." Edmund said.

"You can't just go strolling around Lord Pevensie's house." Digory reminded him. "Helen will have a fit."

"Peter wont mind and it's more his house than it is her's anyway." Edmund said curtly.

"Not after today it isn't." Digory pointed out.

"I'll be quick." Edmund promised.

Digory looked both ways and sighed deeply. "Alright."

"If anyone asks, just tell them I went to look for the bathroom or something." He didn't expect anyone to be looking for him but he tossed up a cover-story just in case.

"Will do." Digory promised. To himself he added in a light mutter, "The trouble you boys get me into..."

Meanwhile, upstairs, Susan sat in her room looking out the window watching the carriages arrive.

There was a knock at her bedroom door. "Su?"

"It's open, Peter." She answered, reaching over for a small crumb of some sort of pastry she had eaten half of for breakfast a few days ago and slipped it through the bars of the cage that was on the low night-stand near her chair. She kept a small sparrow and a little robin in there (They weren't _talking_ birds of course).

Peter walked in. "Are you almost ready?"

Susan glanced down at the fancy dress she was wearing and sighed, "Yes." She paused for a moment. "Although I don't see why they need me there."

"You're the daughter of the groom." Peter reminded her as she slipped an extra crumb to the robin who seemed upset that the sparrow had gotten the first treat.

"All I am is a thorn in his flesh." Susan huffed, looking away from the cage and back out the window. "He's always made that perfectly clear."

"That's not true." Peter said, although that was sort of a lie.

"He still blames me for mother's death." Susan said sourly.

Peter blinked back the tears that came into his eyes at the mention of his mother whom he still missed terribly. "You don't _know_ that, Su."

"I miss her deeply." Susan said softly, blinking back a few tears of her own. "But I think I miss father even more-he's not the same person he was before."

"Hey..." Peter said gently, giving her a light side hug. "It's alright, you still have me."

"Not for long." Susan said, pulling herself out of his grip and looking back at the sparrow and the robin who were fighting over the bigger crumb in the cage. "You're going to Cair Paravel next year."

"No." Peter told her, closing his eyes and opening them again. "I'm not."

"But Peter-" Susan started.

He held up his hand and shook his head. "No, it's alright."

Susan felt torn. On the one hand, she was over-joyed that he was staying-seeing as he was one of the few people she actually liked having around-even if her solemn expression didn't show it. On the other, she felt horrible. He'd always had to give up so much for her. He had given up most of his free time as a young boy to take care of her because she was pale and sickly and unable to look after herself. He was always there to stick up for her when everyone else was going on about how spoiled and heartless she was. And now he wasn't going to Cair Paravel. Still, she could tell his mind was made up and she couldn't will herself to try and change it.

"Come on." Peter smiled, nudging her arm slightly. "The sooner we go down the sooner we can come back and laugh about all the stupid things the guests did."

Susan smiled back and stood up. "Alright."

"Hang it all!" Peter moaned, when he heard the faint sound of a faun's flute. "We're late. Father's going to be furious."

"Why should he care?" Susan said bitterly. "He doesn't love us anymore."

"Come on, enough with that." Peter said.

"For now." Susan gave in, walking towards the door.

As soon as she opened it, she saw a breathless Edmund standing there, panting in the doorway.

"What in the world are you doing here?" Susan hissed sharply.

He ignored her, caught his breath at last, and looked over at Peter worriedly.

"Ed?" Peter hadn't expected to see him up here. He was supposed to be in the west ballroom. "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you." Edmund told him.

Susan rolled her eyes, Peter nudged her back into the room, walked into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

"What is it?" Peter asked, pulling at the end of his sky-blue doublet nervously.

Edmund made his voice as low as possible. "I didn't want to scare Susan but..."

"Out with it, Edmund!" Peter blurted out, not unkindly.

"Miraz is here."

Peter felt the blood drain from his face. "Are you sure it's him?"

Edmund nodded.

Peter groaned and buried his face in his hands. "This is bad."

"I think you should make sure Susan stays in her room." Edmund suggested, eyeing the closed door. "Maybe it's best if she doesn't even have to know he's here at all."

What Peter really wanted to was to kick Miraz in the crotch and break both of his arms but that wouldn't be acceptable. Also, Lord Pevensie would have a fit if his daughter wasn't at the wedding because of what the guests would be sure to say.

"Father will kill me if she's not down there with everyone else." Peter said weakly.

"But...Miraz..." Edmund protested.

"If he even looks at her funny, I'll beat the living daylights out of him." Peter said through his teeth. "You'll just have to keep a sharp eye on him and I'll stay with Susan and try to keep her calm, alright?"

"Don't you think it would be best to just risk your father's wrath?" Edmund asked.

"I don't know, Edmund." Peter said, shaking his head. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"I'll keep an eye on Miraz." Edmund promised him.

"Thanks." Peter breathed a sort of half-relief sigh and smiled gratefully.

"No problem."

Susan came out of her room and walked into the hallway now with a slight scowl on her face. "Are you doing talking yet?"

"Yes, we're done." Edmund told her.

"Then go back to the ballroom with the other guests before father sees you here." Susan spoke rather harshly but she didn't mean to be cruel.

Peter looked like he was trying to blink back newly-formed tears.

Susan grabbed onto the side of his arm. "Peter, what's wrong? Can't you tell me?"

Peter felt like a horrible traitor but he knew what had to be done. "I'll tell you later." If she knew Miraz was here, she'd lock herself in her bedroom and refuse to come out. Which was completely understandable-to him and to Edmund who knew the truth. To everyone else it would be a mystery. He didn't want to put her through this but he had no intentions of letting anything happen to her-she would be perfectly safe even if she didn't feel that way.

Once they were in the ballroom, they found their seats. There were enough people that Susan-and even Peter for that matter-didn't see Miraz right away.

"I wish they would stop staring at me." Susan whispered to Peter, looking at a group of young lords out of the corner of her eye. "I hate company."

"You'll be fine." Peter forced an encouraging smile. "Just ignore them."

Susan glanced over in the other direction and locked eyes with two men from Telmar. She didn't recognize the younger one because he had only been a little boy when she had last seen him and he was a young man now but the older one she knew at once.

Peter felt her grab tightly onto the side of his arm. "Peter!"

"He's not going to hurt you, Su."

Susan's expression tightened into a glare. "You knew!"

Peter couldn't help looking a little guilty. "Yes, but I..."

"You knew Miraz was here and you let me come down anyway." Susan hissed angrily, smacking him lightly but in a very serious manner on the arm. "What kind of horrible brother are you?"

She's right, Peter thought to himself quickly forgetting all the good he had done for her over the years, I _am_ horrible. I should have just let father get upset. This is too much for her. Edmund warned me and I...I'm such an idiot!

"I'm leaving." Susan said, standing up.

Peter noticed his father turning around and glaring at them quickly before smiling back at Helen who was pretending to listen to the centaur who was performing the wedding ceremony but was really too busy shooting Digory the stink eye for lighting up a pipe in the middle of it.

Well that's just great, Peter thought to himself bitterly, now not only is Susan mad at me-with all right to be-but Father's angry, too! I can't win!

Susan hesitated. She wanted to leave more than anything. She need to get as far away from that awful sadistic Miraz as possible but she didn't like the idea of walking passed all of those lords and ladies by herself. The ladies would say bad things about her and the lords...she shuddered...what if one of them tried to grab her as she walked by? She looked down at Peter wishing she hadn't called him a horrible brother. He wasn't horrible. He was the only friend she had other than her sparrow and robin and maybe Tumnus.

Looking at the stricken expression on his sister's face, Peter got the hint and stood up. _Sorry, father, you're going to hate me for ever. _He went with her back upstairs, leaving the fake-smiling bride and groom and the guests behind.

Lucy noticed them leave and realized something very strange. For the first time in her life, she wasn't under her mother's sharp eye. When Helen wasn't looking at Lord Pevensie or shaking her head disapprovingly at some guest, she was looking at the centaur trying to convince him she was actually paying attention to his speech.

Why, I could probably leave the room and follow Peter and Susan to where ever is it their going, She thought to herself.

Feeling very much like someone in a dream, she got up and did so.

**AN: Please review!**


	13. the truth sets you free?

**AN: Sorry I didn't get this up a little sooner. Hope you like it.**

Although the ballroom was crowded, the rest of the house seemed all but desolate. Most of the lamps were put out and no servants were in sight. Even the least important of them were standing in attendance to watch their master marry his new bride. Which made Lucy feel a little guilty that she, the bride's own daughter, was speaking off like this. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was some great mystery hanging over her and knew her curiosity would never let her rest if she didn't at least try to figure out what it might be.

She caught a glimpse of Susan's silver slipper dashing up the stairs with Peter's new shinny black boots a little ways in front of her. As quietly as she could manage, Lucy started up the stairs slowly and trailer softly behind them as they fast-walked to Susan's bed chamber. They closed the door behind them but Lucy stuck her foot in it.

The thick wood pushed through her much-too-soft white leather slippers and made the sides of her foot throb. She wasn't used to having so little protection over her feet. Up until four months ago, her feet were always either bare or in thick borrowed boots (and she knew how to tell the difference then).

Biting her lip so that she didn't cry out in pain, Lucy lowered her ear further into the door.

"Are you alright?" She heard Peter ask Susan gently in modern Narnian.

Susan mumbled something along the lines of, "Yes, I think so."

"Su..." Peter started weakly. "It can't go on like this...we have to tell someone. Maybe if father knew the truth..."

"No!" Susan said, with more determination in her voice than Lucy had ever heard her speak with before.

"But..." Peter tried.

"Look what happened when I agreed to let you tell Tumnus!"

"That-" Peter began.

"And then you had the audacity to tell Edmund when I told you not to, I can't even look at him now knowing that he knows everything." Susan huffed.

Knows everything about what? Lucy wondered, listening closer still.

"It'll be different this time." Peter said.

"Different..._Different_!" Susan glared at him. "Miraz's brother is dead because we told Tumnus what Miraz did to me."

"It was an accident, none of us meant to do that." Peter said gently.

"I just want to forget everything." Susan said, tears streaming down her face now. "I don't want to think about any of it ever again but I can't do that because I know that at least two deaths are my fault."

"Susan, that's not true!" Peter protested.

"First, mother...then, Miraz's brother? Who's next?" Susan sobbed, losing all sense of hushed tones. "How many more have to die for my sake?"

"It wasn't your fault." Peter whispered, putting his arm around her comfortingly. "Mother made her own choice and what happened to the king of Telmar was an accident. A bad one, but an accident all the same. If anyone is at fault it's Miraz."

"It was all because of me." Susan refused to listen to him, sobbing into her hands which were now cupped around her face. "I'm the cause of all this."

"No!" Peter said resolutely. "It was all because Miraz kidnapped you. He's the cause of all our pain-of all our suffering. Not you, Susan. It was never you and it never will be."

Lucy put her hand to her mouth to hold back a gasp. Miraz was the one who stole Susan away when she was a little girl! That's why she was so upset. And Edmund knew! That's what they were keeping from her. And what had happened to Miraz's brother? Where did Tumnus come into this? It was all too confusing to figure out.

Susan just cried harder while Peter tried-in vain-to comfort her. Feeling like she should leave them alone for now, Lucy turned and went back down the stairs and re-entered the ballroom just as the ceremony was ending.

The servants were ordered to carry away the chairs and to move the refreshment tables over to the side-lines of the room so that the guests could dance and mingle during the reception.

Lord Pevensie was smiling diplomatically at each guest although even Lucy who didn't know him very well could tell he was actually rather cross.

He doesn't know, Lucy had to remind herself, recalling the conversation she'd just over-heard. Peter had said something along the lines of their father not knowing the truth. He must have meant the truth about who kidnapped Susan; Lord Pevensie spoke to Miraz as an honoured guests-there was little to no tension between them.

Noticing that even now Helen wasn't looking for her, Lucy worked her way through the crowded ballroom to find Edmund. She had to ask him what was really going on. If she had to live in this house from now on, she had to know. If Peter and Susan wouldn't tell her she would have to persuade Edmund to do so.

"Ed," Lucy said when she finally found him at one of the refreshment tables shoveling in black-berry scones like there was no tomorrow. "I need to talk to you."

Edmund turned around and said something that she couldn't understand because his mouth was full. He held up one finger, signaling for her to wait a minute and swallowed. "What's up, Lu?"

"Can we talk alone?" Lucy asked, noticing that Miraz, Prince Caspian, Lord Pevensie, and some woman (Miraz's wife) who she didn't know were standing at another refreshment table only a foot or so away.

Edmund looked around the crowded room and shrugged. "Where do you want to talk?"

Thinking quickly, Lucy remembered the garden that Lord Pevensie had sent her off to the first time they'd had tea over his manor. It had been raining that day but there wasn't much likelihood of that happening today.

She grabbed onto Edmund's lower arm and started pulling him out of the ballroom. "Come on."

They wandered the lower hallways, corridors, passageways, and foyers. At first, Lucy had been quite certain she remembered her way to the garden and that finding it would be reasonably easy and that soon she and Ed would be alone and would be able to talk about whatever it was that was going on with Susan, Peter, Tumnus, and Miraz; but instead, she now found herself almost hopelessly lost. These damp stone steps going downwards didn't seem right at all. She didn't remember seeing stairs like these at all during any of her trips here.

"Lucy, where are you taking me?" Edmund nervous laugh-asked, after being dragged along for nearly fifteen minutes.

I don't know, Lucy thought frustratedly. Everything had been so much easier in Edmund and Digory's small house and even in the inn. It had been big but not _this _big! At this rate, they could be lost for months before one of the servants found them and pointed them in the right direction!

Because she was so over-whelmed, Lucy almost collided right into a short wobble-footed old woman with her wispy gray hair up in a loose bun, carrying a very large laundry hamper.

All the same, the near accident did startle the poor woman so that she dropped her laundry basket on the floor; all of the damp garments tumbled onto the tile below.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Lucy apologized, letting go of Edmund's arm and bending down to help the woman pick up the clothes.

The old woman smiled at them. "Worry not, little mistress."

"I thought all the servants were attending the wedding." Edmund said conversationally, peeling a tunic off the floor and handing it back to the woman.

"Oh, I knew they wouldn't notice if I wasn't there." The woman explained with another smile and a friendly shrug of her shoulders. "I'm just the eldest washer-woman. And as dirty clothes do pile up whether or not it is the day his lordship is to be wed on, I thought perhaps it would be best if I stuck to my chores to avoid the rush afterwards."

"A very good idea." Edmund agreed with her.

She nodded. "I thought so."

"I suppose I've gone and made more work for you now." Lucy sighed, turning a little red in the face.

"Nonsense." She waved it off. "But now, why aren't you both at the wedding? Surely the two of you missing would be noticed."

"We were looking for the garden." Lucy explained shyly, looking down at her feet.

"I see." The washer-woman said in a kind voice.

"We were?" Edmund whispered to Lucy. This was the first he'd heard about it.

The washer-woman then picked up her basket and told them the way. Lucy thanked her with a curtsy, which-much to Edmund's deep surprise-wasn't half as wobbly as it used to be. He couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. There wasn't anything wrong with her becoming lady-like per say but he didn't like the idea of Lucy having to be changed and educated when there really wasn't anything wrong with her to begin with. He liked her company just the way she was.

When they finally reached the garden, had shut the glass door behind them, and had made sure that they were not being eavesdropped on, Lucy turned to Edmund. She was ready to talk now, she only hoped he was, too.

"Edmund, I know Miraz was the one who kidnapped Susan and I know you know more about it than you let on and I'm actually a little scared having to live here now and I don't know what else to do or who else to talk to so could you please tell me what's going on?" Lucy blurted out in one long anxious breath.

"I promised Peter I wouldn't." Edmund explained, cracking his knuckles while he spoke. "I didn't even tell Digory."

Although Lucy felt a little bad about trying to badger him into tell her she felt she couldn't bare to live here not understanding the truth of what had really happened. It would be one thing if she was still a beggar or still Digory's servant. In that case, it wouldn't be any of her business. But if Peter and Susan were her stepsiblings now, she had to know.

"Digory doesn't have to live here with them, Edmund." Lucy said so firmly she surprised herself. For a moment she shuddered inwardly realizing she sounded the slightest bit like her mother.

Edmund seemed taken aback but only for a second. Perhaps he understood what she must be going through; how confusing and frightening it must be for her. She only eleven years old after all.

He looked both ways. "I'll tell you but you can't tell anyone. Susan would be furious and Peter would never trust me again."

"I wont tell." Lucy promised.

"Not even Lord Pevensie." Edmund warned her.

"I wont say anything." Lucy vowed, lowering her voice.

"How did you find out, anyway?" Edmund wondered aloud.

Lucy looked a little embarrassed. "I over-heard Peter and Susan talking about it..."

Edmund didn't press the issue he simply nodded and went on. "When Peter found Susan in the canal and brought her back home to Lord Pevensie, she told everyone that she didn't know the name of her kidnapper and that she couldn't remember exactly what he looked like. Everyone believed her, except for Peter, that is. He got her to tell him the truth one day when they were alone upstairs in her bed chamber but she made him swear that he wouldn't tell anyone. Eventually, he convinced her to let him tell Tumnus because he had always been so loyal to them." Edmund paused for a moment. "And that's when things went wrong. Miraz had been very cruel to Susan during her time with him. I mean, brutally so. Once he broke her arm when she didn't come when he called her."

Lucy's eyes widened and she shuddered. Poor Susan! No wonder she was so frightened of him. Who would have thought he could be such a monster?

"She had some really bad bruises and Peter thinks-and I agree with him-that when Miraz left her in the canal, he never intended for her to get out. She had a hurt foot, one of her toes was broken and her ankle was sprained; she would never have been able to climb out by herself. Eventually she would have likely been drowned when the water level rose. Peter finding her and taking her back home was probably not what Miraz had in mind."

"So what did Tumnus do?" Lucy asked, feeling very much like she wasn't going to like the answer.

Edmund looked up at the sky, sighed, and then looked back at her. "He went to Telmar and poisoned a goblet of wine that was supposed to be for Miraz."

Lucy didn't like where this was going. "And..."

"His brother was the one who ended up drinking it." Edmund finished, not without a slight shudder. "Miraz's brother had never done anything to Susan, he hadn't even known about Miraz kidnapping her to begin with."

So that was what Susan had meant, Lucy realized. How sad!

"And that's pretty much it." Edmund told her. "I mean there's a few extra details here and there but that's pretty much what happened."

"How long ago did Tumnus..." Lucy wanted to know.

"Susan was about ten or so when they told him the truth." Edmund said.

"I see." Lucy said quietly, feeling suddenly like she wanted to cry. Cry for Peter who was so torn-caught between everything and everyone. Cry for Susan who went through so much. Cry for Miraz's brother because he had been innocent. Cry for Tumnus because he was a good faun and must feel simply awful about what happened. Cry for Caspian because he'd lost his father in all this. Just cry.

"But remember, you can't tell anyone." Edmund reminded her as they walked out of the garden back into the house.

"I wont." Lucy promised again.

She would rather forget about it herself. In a way, she wished she didn't know. The knowledge she had thought would make her feel safer only made her feel more afraid.

**AN: Please review!**


	14. Period

**AN: As I hope is already obvious, this is rated T and not K+ for a reason. Some of the end of this chapter is part of that reason.**

Feeling a little bit like a small child doing something he knows is going to result in getting his ears boxed, Caspian wandered away from his uncle, out of the west ballroom, and stood in the entrance way wondering where she could have gone.

It was the strangest thing. Among all these unfamiliar faces, he had-or thought he had-caught a glimpse of an old friend whom he played with once in his castle as a little boy.

There had been a little servant girl-or at least he thought she was a servant girl; he was fairly certain that was what she had to have been-he had found in a tower room. He remembered how tired and cross she'd looked at first but her face had softened a little when he tossed her the little golden ball he was playing with and asked her if she wanted to play, too.

He didn't remember her very well, it had been a very long time ago, but he did remember her face somewhat (She had been a pretty child) and that she'd had a sore arm which she couldn't lift. He remembered that because it was the reason he had to keep throwing the ball only to one side of her so that she could catch it. He had liked her and had tried to send for her afterwards but no one seemed to know who she was. He talked with all of the servants in the castle but they all claimed there was no such person. He must have imagined her, they said. He almost believed them until today. Caspian could have sworn he'd seen her within the swarm of wedding guests, only she had left early.

Was there a chance she was still in the manor somewhere? All of the carriages were blocked in because of limited parking-Lord Pevensie didn't want carriage wheels on his lawn-so it wasn't likely she would have left yet. Maybe she went out for a breath of fresh air.

Being used to visiting large manors, he found the garden rather quickly but she wasn't there. He did see two children-a boy and a girl with somber expressions on their faces-whispering back and forth to each other about something.

Shrugging to himself he thought, well it's none of my business. I wonder where she would have gone...

Then he heard footsteps on the nearby stairs and hid under them, unable to find another place quickly enough.

"I'm going back downstairs now, are you going to be alright by yourself?" a young man's voice asked whomever was with him.

A young lady's voice answered, "Yes, I'll be alright." in old Narnian-which Caspian could understand because he'd had tutors to teach him those sort of words all his life even though he was a Telmarine and not Narnian himself.

"I'm just going to go and try to beg father's pardon so that he doesn't get any more upset." The young man's voice said.

"I'm sorry, Peter." She replied in a soft, sad tone.

"It's not your fault." He said gently, giving her a quick hug before rushing down the stairs and through the hallway towards the west ballroom.

Caspian came out of hiding now and looked up at the staircase. The lady who spoke old Narnian was still there and sure enough, she was the one he had seen at the wedding earlier, the one he thought might be his childhood friend. Now that he saw her though, he realized that couldn't be. The girl he remembered was pretty but not as beautiful as this young lady. Still he owed her an explanation because she had spotted him by now and was gaping at him, wide eyed, looking like she might bolt back up the stairs at any given moment.

"Begging your pardon, lady." He called up to her in old Narnian.

She seemed surprised. "You speak old Narnian?" It seemed a little strange to her that the Telmarine prince could speak old Narnian, they'd spoken only in a rather gutter-like version of modern Narnian mixed with a few Telmarine words here and there the last time she had seen him.

He nodded.

Susan prepared to get up and run back upstairs but her legs suddenly felt heavy, they didn't want to move.

"Forgive me for staring, it's just you reminded me of someone I knew when I was a child." Caspian explained.

"You must be mistaken." Susan said distantly, silently reminding herself of two things. One, that he was the nephew of her greatest enemy. Two, that she was the reason his father was now dead. She couldn't stay and talk to him as if those things weren't real. He might be nice. He might still have some of the friendly little boy she remembered in him but she wasn't going to wait around to find out. She had to go and she had to go now.

"Wait..." Caspian started. It was too late, she was already out of sight. What a strange lass! She was so distant and skittish. What was the matter with her? He shrugged to himself again and headed back for the ballroom. His Uncle would likely be leaving soon and wouldn't want to be kept waiting.

After the wedding, Tumnus and Peter showed Lucy where her bed chamber would be. She hugged Edmund and Digory goodbye before following them up the long south staircase down a hallway she had never seen before.

"Tumnus will be your tutor." Peter explained to Lucy as they walked passed more open doorways than she could count.

"You'll have to teach her sewing though." Tumnus reminded him. "I can't make a stitch."

Peter turned a little red in the face. "Sure, I'll see to that."

Lucy smiled at him, sensing his slight embarrassment. If she hadn't already known before that he sewed, she might have laughed out of surprise but once that element was removed, it really wasn't all that funny.

"I'll have to arrange her lessons around Susan's." Tumnus told Peter.

Lucy crinkled her forehead and looked at them with a confused expression on her face. "I thought Peter was Susan's only tutor."

"In everything except music and philosophy." Peter explained. "Tumnus teaches her that."

Lucy nodded quickly and continued to follow them until they came to a stop in front of two silver double-doors.

"Here we are." Peter said, swinging both doors open.

Lucy's eyes widened so much that she thought they might fall right out of their sockets as she stood gawking at the massive room, certain there had to be some mistake.

"No way!" She squealed involuntarily.

The room itself was double the size of the cottage she had lived in back in Ettinsmoor and was painted red and gold colours. The bed was an elegant work of art shielded by the world's most frilly canopy. To the left of it was a large wash-stand, a tall gold-framed mirror and two more doors which she assumed led to a closet. To the right of it was something even more impressive and wonderful; an oval-shaped archway which led to a large reading nook surrounded by bookshelves fairly teaming with shinny new books with glittering, flawless, spines of leather and gold and silver.

Peter and Tumnus exchanged amused grins at her expense.

"W-w-who put my room in that library?" Lucy rushed into the room and through the oval unable to stop herself from running her fingers along the books and perfectly polished shelves.

"Oh, that's nothing." Peter laughed, following her into the nook. "You should see the one in father's chamber."

"Where did they all come from?" Lucy wanted to know, picking up one of the books and running her fingers along the deeply engraved title.

"Lord Pevensie brought them so the room wouldn't be empty but no one's used them yet." Tumnus said, shaking his head at her innocence and excitement. What a sweet child she was! It was terribly unfortunate that she had to live here in this house now with all their dark secrets.

"We'll give you some time to settle in." Peter said, walking out the door and pulling Tumnus out behind him. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Thank you." Lucy said softly, taking a seat in the nook and looking up at the oil painting of what she assumed was supposed to be a portrait of something from mythology on the ceiling-dome above her.

"You're welcome, Lu." Peter said quietly, even sadly, as he shut the door behind him.

That night, Lucy laid awake unable to fall asleep because she kept expecting something to happen. Lord Pevensie would be cross with Peter and yell or Susan would start crying about something and another secret would be uncovered-any second now. But nothing happened. There were no sounds to be heard expect for the late-night servants getting ready for bed and the occasional hooting of an owl outside her window.

When she finally did managed to fall asleep, she dreamed of a great golden Lion with large sad eyes looking down at their manor from a green hill top shaking his head sadly at them-making his lovely thick mane sway to and fro.

Then she awoke with a start, feeling sort of lonely, knowing that no one would be coming to her now. At the inn, Marjorie had sometimes come to visit her late at night and at Digory's house, when the professor and Helen were sound asleep beyond any easy waking, she and Edmund used to whisper back and forth. There was no hope of such company tonight and she thought for a moment that she would gladly give up her beautiful room for the nightly companionship she no longer had.

In the morning, a kindly servant brought her breakfast in bed explaining that there would be no formal meal this morning because the Lordship and his wife had gone away.

"Gone away where?" Lucy asked, rubbing her eyes and sitting up as the rich smell from the food wafted up into her face.

"A honeymoon in Archenland." The servant explained. "They'll return in two weeks."

Lucy felt somewhere between relieved that they were gone for a bit and upset that her mother had left without even saying goodbye to her. Helen had always fussed over her daughter and yet she couldn't even tell her she was leaving in person? Perhaps that was simply what she thought the servants were for. Still, Lucy feel unexplainably sad over this. She had never been very attached to her mother and yet she felt like crying. Why was that?

A little while after she had eaten, she had stomach pains. Had something she'd eaten disagreed with her? Had she suddenly become allergic to something without knowing it?

She decided to go for a walk around the hallways to sort of clear her head. Her stomach continued to ache and she felt kind of dizzy now, too. What was going on?

Because she wasn't paying attention, she banged right into Peter who was coming down the other end of the hallway.

"Lucy, you're pale." He noted, looking very concerned, ignoring her muffled apology for banging into him and nearly knocking him over. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine!" Lucy blurted out, blinking back another round of unexplained tears.

Peter looked even more concerned now. "You don't look it, sweetie."

"Well my lower stomach does sort of hurt." Lucy mumbled, putting a hand on her forehead to try and keep the room from spinning.

He went very red in the face. "Uh, Lu?"

"Yes?"

"How old are you, again?"

"Eleven." Lucy told him, wondering why that should matter.

He went even redder. "Could you...uh...turn around...?"

She did so, feeling a little silly and wondering what exactly he was getting at.

Sure enough, Peter noticed a red stain on the back of Lucy's dress that he was quite certain was not paint. _Oh dear aslan, why me? _He grabbed onto her hand and started down the hallway towards Susan's chambers. "Susan! Susan, I need you right now!"

**AN: Please review.**


	15. A bit of fun

**AN: Two things. One, I want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you were wonderful! Please keep this up! Two, I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, I would have if only I'd had the time. I'll try to get the next one up quicker if at all possible. **

"Susan!" Peter flung her chamber door open and nudged Lucy in. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"It's a big house, Peter." Susan reminded him, turning around from her robin and sparrow who were fighting over a crumb of pie and a strawberry bit; jolting their cage making them look up at her with confused expressions.

"Never mind that now." Peter said hastily, moving his hand in the air as if swatting at an invisible fly. "I need your help...it's urgent."

Susan's eyebrow sank deeply into her forehead and she blinked at him in confusion.

Sighing deeply, Peter put his hands on Lucy's shoulders and turned her around so Susan could see the back of her dress.

"Oh." Susan seemed to understand now.

Understand what? Lucy thought to herself. What in the world was all this about? Why was Peter so nervous and was that a sort of half-smile forming at the right corner of Susan's mouth? She looked so sympathetic, almost out-right kind.

"Lucy, don't worry, it's perfectly natural but..." Susan picked up a silver hand-mirror and handed it to her. "Hold it so you can see the back of your dress."

There was a large red stain dripping down from below her crotch all the way towards her butt. Was that blood?

"What..." Lucy started, looking up at Susan and Peter anxiously.

"Helen never...?" Peter spoke like he was talking to Lucy but he was looking at Susan when he said it.

Nearly a half-hour later, they were still struggling to explain it to her. It would have been easier if Susan had been better at explaining things but her quiet nature caused her to use as few words as possible and Lucy simply wasn't understanding what she was getting at. And the fact that Susan's modern Narnian had some old words that Lucy didn't know in it didn't help either (Susan's English wasn't good enough for her to attempt to explain something complicated in).

"Every four weeks or so, you lay an egg." Susan tried, struggling not to use any old terms.

Lucy just looked at her.

"Like a chicken." Peter blurted out nervously, almost as red as a cherry tomato now.

"Huh?" Lucy felt even more confused now than she had been before.

Susan turned and glared at Peter. "Don't help."

"Sorry." He mouthed.

"Why don't you go get something to eat downstairs in the kitchen while I finish explaining this to Lucy?" Susan offered, sensing his discomfort.

He didn't need asking twice, he rushed out the chamber door so fast that Lucy joked afterwards that his wind could have knocked them flat down.

Susan's half-smile turned into a full one and Lucy finally felt a little more relaxed around her. Maybe living here wouldn't be quite so bad after all.

The first week Lord Pevensie and Lady Helen were gone wasn't much fun for Lucy. Even after she finally understood what was going on, she didn't like it. Was she really going to have to go through this _every_ four weeks? Pain and ruined clothing...all of it was simply horrid! But Susan was surprisingly kind about it-occasionally asking in her own quiet aloof way if she getting along okay-making her feel much better.

The second week was much more fun. Once her flow had ended and she felt normal again, Lucy realized that she would need something to do. But what? The servants took care of all the chores and her lessons weren't scheduled to start until Lord Pevensie and Helen returned. At first she worried about being bored but soon found that was an unnecessary fear.

Peter showed her the fun side of living in a big manor with six long marble hallways. He told Susan and Lucy to put on their smoothest stockings.

"Why am I doing this, again?" Lucy asked as she slid a stocking onto her left foot.

"It'll be fun, Lucy." Susan whisper-promised her as she put on her own stockings. "Trust us."

Peter took off his shoes and slid down the marble hallway in his sock feet. When he reached the end, he grabbed onto the side of the wall so he wouldn't fall down.

"Alright, Susan, why don't you go ahead and show Lucy what we do when there's no supervision?" He winked at her.

"Ahhhhhh!!!!!" Susan slid down the hallway twice as fast as Peter had and would have crashed at end if Peter hadn't caught her.

They glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

"Okay, Lu, your turn." Peter laughed, helping Susan to her feet.

"I don't know...." Lucy mused, smiling at them.

"Come on, I'll catch you." Peter promised.

"Well, maybe just once." Helen would despair of her daughter ever becoming a proper lady if she saw this but she wasn't here now. The smooth marble felt like an ice rink and she could feel excitingly little chills working their way through her stockings to the soles of her feet.

"Ahhhhhh!" Lucy kicked off with her left foot and slid down the hallway, struggling not to fall and land on her butt. When she reached the end, Peter caught her.

Lucy laughed. Once she started she couldn't stop-and her laughing made Peter laugh and even Susan had to join in. Tears streamed down their faces and they couldn't even remember what was so funny to begin with. They went up and down the hallway for an hour until they were too tired and their stockings needed to be mended.

During the course of the week they spent time together playing games and looking at books and a million other things. Lucy realized that Susan could be charming and funny when she wanted to be and every once in a while, she was sure she was catching a glimpse of the girl she must have been before she was kidnapped. She became more withdrawn whenever they had company (It was only Edmund and Marjorie but even they were enough to set her back) but when it was just the three of them, it was almost as if she wasn't burdened by her dark secret anymore.

On the last day of the week, Edmund came over to talk to Peter about a sword Lord Pevensie had requested for one of his carriage footmen before leaving, he suggested to Lucy that they should ride down the laundry shoot.

"It mightn't be safe, Peter wouldn't like it." Lucy said in a low hushed tone, wondering if the servants might be nearby listening to them.

Edmund rolled his eyes. The shoot was made very large so that the four-inch thick wool-and-silk comforters in Lord Pevensie's guest bed chambers could get through. And as the many sheets and garments owned by the people in this household were expensive, the shoot couldn't have been too rough. Sure it wasn't made for people, but it would be fine for him and Lucy.

"I'd go with you." Edmund reminded her.

Lucy had to admit she was tempted. Tempted, but also a little frightened. Still, she didn't want Edmund to realize she was afraid of a little laundry shoot either.

"Come on, Lu." Edmund said, giving her a gentle poke on the side of her left arm. "It'll be fine." In only a few words, he reminded her of how he hadn't let anything happen to her when they'd explored that attic together all those months ago and that she would be just as safe now.

She remembered him testing out the stairs. He wasn't careless; he'd make sure she was protected. She gave in with a coy smile. "Well, maybe just one quick ride down."

They positioned themselves at the edge of the shoot with Lucy in the front and Edmund behind her with his legs spread out to both sides so that she could sit in the middle of them. He started to scoot closer and closer to the square-shaped opening.

Lucy felt nervous; it wasn't too late to say she had changed her mind and get out of this now. What did it matter if Edmund knew she was afraid? She was of higher rank than him (Oh I did not just think that, Lucy cursed herself inwardly; amazed at how suddenly she could forget that she had been a beggar his grandfather had taken in not so very long ago) should it matter what he thought? He smiled at her and his right eye twitched into a wink; she didn't feel as afraid now.

Right before they fell into the metal shoot, Edmund put his arms around her so that she wouldn't lurch to the side and hit her head. After that, it was one long straight ride in complete smooth-but dreadfully hard-darkness. Thanks to Edmund, Lucy didn't need to worry about hitting the side of the shoot and getting bruised, he got the worst of that and before Lucy had time to draw a breath after the first "Ahhhhhhhh!", they had already come to the end of the shoot and landed in a large tub of wash water.

"So, was I right?" Edmund laughed breathlessly, wiping his wet hair away from his forehead.

Lucy couldn't stop smiling. Her dress was hopelessly soaked and her hair hung in damp unsightly strands clinging tightly to the nape of her neck, yet she felt so happy and alive. She opened her mouth to answer him but another voice-one that certainly did not belong to a little eleven year old girl-spoke first.

"What _are _you doing?"

It was the eldest washer-woman, the one they'd banged into looking for the garden during Lord Pevensie and Helen's wedding. Her eyes shinned brightly and her lips twitched up in deep amusement revealing an unexpected dimple or two in her aged chin.

Lucy blushed feeling a little guilty, knowing they must have made a mess on the floor when they landed. Perhaps they could offer to help her clean-they were fortunate that she didn't appear at all cross with them.

"We were just a having a little fun." Edmund grinned at the washer-woman.

She nodded, beaming at them cheerfully. "That's what youth is for, isn't it?"

"Exactly!" Edmund exclaimed supportively, climbing out of the wash tub and extending out his hand to help Lucy out after him.

Reaching for Edmund's hand, Lucy slipped at least twice, leaving dark water-marks all over the front of her dress in places where it had remained unsoiled before. She didn't notice this, though, and she probably wouldn't have cared if she had.

A thin female faun with honey-coloured curly tresses, carrying a straw basket filled with the stockings Peter, Susan, and Lucy had ruined by sliding down the marble hall earlier that week. She noticed Lucy and Edmund standing a few feet away from her dripping wet and gave them a concerned look-hopefully they wouldn't get into trouble, they were sweet children, the poor dears.

"Shouldn't you be in the north parlor, ready to meet his lordship and his wife when they arrive?" She asked, placing the basket down and searching her pockets for her sewing needle so she could work on mending the stockings before she washed them so that the small holes on the heels of some of them wouldn't get bigger.

"What?" Edmund felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn't known that Lord Pevensie and Helen were returning today, or if he had, he had completely forgotten.

"Mum's back?" Lucy gasped in surprise. How fast the time had gone by! It barely felt few like a day or two. Had it really been two weeks already? She recalled her current sorry state-wet dress and hair-and the image of her mother's most irritated facial expression popped into her head. She would be furious! What if she didn't let her spend time with Edmund anymore because she didn't act lady-like around him?

"We have got get you to the north parlor, your mother will be upset." Edmund said with surprising calmness re-entering his voice. "Lord Pevensie's used to having a difficult daughter though, so he might not notice."

"But my clothes!" Lucy blurted out helplessly, her lower lip trembling just slightly.

"Well we can't stay here." Edmund reminded her. "We'll have to move quickly and think of a plan along the way." He grabbed onto her hand and started pulling her towards the wash-room door on their way to the upper floors.

As they rushed up a set of stone steps which Lucy, and secretly Edmund as well, weren't sure what part of the house they were located in, they saw part of the wall to their right move and open backwards like a chamber door.

Susan stood there, looking at them strangely. Her eyes followed a drop of water from the corner of Lucy's dress down to where it fell on the stone step making a light _cling_.

"Hullo." Lucy said weakly, wondering what her stepsister was thinking about as she could get no clue from her bland expression.

"Hello, Susan." Edmund said politely.

"Go down these stairs, take a left, down through the servant's quarters, then a right." Susan addressed Edmund in modern Narnian without looking at him. "You can get out through a side door before Helen sees you but you have to hurry." She took Lucy's hand and pulled into the wall-passage with her, shutting it in Edmund's face before he could say a proper goodbye.

He knew better than to be offended. Susan was frightened of his knowing her secrets and the fact that he was a male didn't help either. She distrusted most male humans; Peter being the odd exception to her peculiar rule. Also, he got the feeling that she was trying to help Lucy even if she had an emotionless way of showing it-though that mightn't always be a bad thing. He quickly dashed down the stairs, following Susan's directions.

In the meantime, Lucy was rushed up the passage, to her room where Susan quickly and quietly dried her off and laid a fresh dress out for her. Then she brushed out Lucy's hair until it was unknotted and shinny, pulling it back into a silver shell-comb.

"Come on." Susan told her shortly, not because she was upset but simply because she needed Lucy to make haste. "Your mother and my father are downstairs waiting for us."

"What about Peter?" Lucy had to ask.

"He's already with them." Susan told her.

I hope he's alright, Lucy thought, remembering Lord Pevensie's anger towards him from leaving the wedding early two weeks ago.

They arrived in the north parlor clean and well-groomed.

Peter rose from the leather arm-chair he was seated in to greet them, shooting Susan a relieved smile.

Helen smiled at her daughter. "Hello, dear." She eyed her daughter's pretty clothes and neat appearance. "You look lovely, child."

"Thank you, mum." Lucy forced a curtsy.

**AN: Please review!**


	16. Hard Lessons

**AN: If you don't already know this, there is a trailer for this fanfic now up on youtube. You can link to it from my profile if you are at all interested in seeing it. **

Lessons had begun now and life had fallen into a routine.

In the morning, after a quiet breakfast with her mother, Lord Pevensie, Peter, and occasionally Susan when she decided to come down-she never came down when she was angry with her father or when there was a guest; both of which happened with surprising frequency-Lucy was escorted to the south wing where Tumnus's study was located.

It was a slightly cluttered, reddish-walled, dark, cave-like room. It had no windows but was well-lit because of the five brass lamps mounted on their tall silver holders and because of the warm orange fire blazing brightly next to the two arm chairs and the tea-table which was covered with open books, cases of ink, and feathered quills. To the right of the fire, was a small bookshelf loaded with first-editions of rare novels and biographies, covered by a sliding-glass frame. There was also a small kitchen-nook where Tumnus could make tea and store small snacks which he often brought out to share with Lucy when she looked like she was getting tired.

The first time he gently nudged a book of old Narnian terms (something Lucy was glad to be learning, maybe it wasn't as interesting as swordsmanship, but at the very least it would help her understand Susan's speech patterns better and would make her stop feeling like such an Ettinsmoor bumpkin) out of her hands, replacing it with a white porcelain gold-rimmed cup of steaming hot tea, she couldn't help peering into it curiously.

She knew Tumnus would never try to poison her but she found herself wondering about the wine goblet that had killed Miraz's brother. Had it had a gold rim, too? Tumnus must have really cared deeply about Susan if he had been willing to attempt murder because of what Miraz had done to her. Still, she couldn't imagine this kind faun trying to kill anyone-not even a horrible kidnapper.

Tumnus had been around quiet, unexpressive people long enough to learn to read faces and Lucy's-which was neither quiet nor unexpressive-gave her away to him almost instantly.

"You know, don't you?" He asked softly, putting down his quill and looking at Lucy sadly.

Lucy looked up from her cup up at him. "Know what?"

He lowered his voice. "What I did to the king of Telmar."

"Yes." Lucy admitted, wondering how he'd guessed so quickly.

"I'm sort of glad that you know." Tumnus told her, with a sorrowful but somewhat relieved expression. "I'm sorry you had to be dragged into all of this-and I don't want to know who told you-but at least we don't have to keep it from you."

"Why did you do it?" Lucy whispered, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from him.

"That man hurt Susan and left her to die." Tumnus said, his eyes filling up with tears which he quickly blinked away but made no attempt to hide. "But it wasn't only that. He didn't only ruin her life, he didn't only break Lord Pevensie's heart when he lost his daughter and then his wife, but he ruined Peter's life as well. He's never going to be a boy again-he had to become a man long before he was ready-he'll always have little else to look back on other than struggling to keep the peace and the secrets. Miraz threw this household into complete turmoil. I was younger and more rash then; I thought that taking his life would be the only way to get back at him for what he did to all of us." Tumnus shook his head and looked wearily into the fire. "All it did was make things worse. I never imagined that an innocent man would die, that a boy would loose his father, and that Susan would blame herself. That's what hurts the most, I only inflicted more pain on the her." Tears stared to stream down his face faster and faster. His heart was filled not only with remorse for what he had done, but also with the hear-wrenching fact that the little girl across from him was wearing an expression of innocent compassion, free of any judgment.

Lucy reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her new handkerchief with the little green L above a tiny embroidered pink rose-bud and handed it to him.

"You're so sorry for what you did, I'm sure you'll never do anything of the sort again." She said gently, hugging the faun's side as he blew his nose loudly.

"You poor child." Tumnus whispered mournfully, patting her hand tenderly. "You don't deserve a life like this one. Being a lady will never make up for your having to live in this lonely broken household."

Although she could still feel her heart beating rapidly with left-over fear of the previously unknown, Lucy managed a soft, "I'll be fine."

"At least you're strong." Tumnus said, sounding slightly consoled as he straightened himself up and lifted up a lesson book. "Maybe you will be alright in the end."

"I hope we all will." Lucy whispered, mostly to herself as she reassumed her lesson.

Her lessons with Tumnus lasted until the noon meal which she took in her mother's upstairs sitting-room as an etiquette lesson. She had to use the right forks when eating salads or meat and always lift her pinky when biting into a slice of bread lest her mother's firm unwavering gaze become a scowl or a glare.

For nearly a fortnight, Helen was convinced that her daughter had learned bad slumping habits from their time with Digory and Edmund which had not fully gone away during their time at the inn and made her eat her noon meal strapped straight up to her chair by a silken scarf.

Although it was somewhat stifled by her true easy-going nature, over time most of the etiquette became automatic. Small sips, no slurping, never crunching her vegetables in the presence of her 'betters', and sitting up straight as a board. Still, whenever she was alone-or even with Peter who never held such things against her, she secretly delighted in spoiling herself with her old not-truly-forgotten ways; burping, licking fingers, and placing her elbows comfortably up on the table.

By the time a month had gone by, Helen decided she was too busy to continue doing the work of a governess, being a ladyship and all, and would rather entrust Lucy's lady lessons to a hired hand now that her habits were no longer embarrassingly horrid. She suggested hiring a new higher ranked maid-perhaps one of the women they had met at the inn-but Lord Pevensie refused her request saying they already had an entire household of servants and that he wasn't going to take anymore in unless some dire need arose. Much as she tried to pass it off as a 'dire need', he remained adamant and in the end it was settled that perhaps Susan could take over the etiquette lessons.

Susan did not much like this arrangement, saying she wasn't going to take over Helen's motherly duties because she was too lazy to do them herself. Insulted, Helen gave her a sharp smack across the face, resulting in them becoming instant enemies. If Susan had had any respect for Helen, no matter how diminutive, it vanished the second she reached up to rub her flaming cheek; and if Helen had ever liked Susan even a very little bit, it was replaced by strong disfavor the moment she saw the defiant look in her stepdaughter's eyes.

"I'll give Lucy her lessons." Susan agreed bitterly in old Narnian to Peter when he went up to her room later to try and console her. "Seeing as her mother hasn't anything good to teach her, but I wont have anything to do with _that woman_ any longer."

"Oh, Su," Peter groaned, putting a caring hand on her shoulder. "Did you have to make her dislike you so early on?"

"She slapped me." Susan protested sullenly.

"I know and I don't approve of that but maybe you could apologize for calling her lazy and-" Peter tired.

"Apologize!" Susan whirled around in her chair. "To _her_?"

"Just to keep the peace." Peter was nearly begging by this point.

"I don't want peace with Helen, she's just as bad as the nightmare father's become." Her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't do it for her then." Peter said gently, kneeling by the chair and reaching for his sister's tightly clenched hands. "Do it for me."

"She _hit _me, Peter." Susan reminded him.

"That was pretty bad but we can't live in bitterness for ever." Peter told her.

Although pained by Peter's pleadings and by her own secret inward desire not to be hated by everyone who met her anymore, Susan was still stubborn. She turned her head away from him.

"I'll talk to father." Peter promised her. "I don't care if he gets upset; I'll tell him I don't want her disciplining you as if you were a chit at her disposal."

Susan looked at him now. "You will?"

Peter nodded.

"Maybe I could try to make peace." Susan said slowly, feeling indebted to Peter, not only for what he was doing for her now but also for what he had always done. "But I do_ not_ like her."

"You like Lucy though." Peter reminded her with a shrug. "She's good with her English as well, maybe she could teach you not to lisp on your W's."

"I do not!" Susan exclaimed, with a guilty half-smile on her face, knowing she actually did.

Peter winked at her and stood up. "I'm going downstairs to talk to father and Helen, are you coming?"

She hesitated. "No."

"Susan!"

She sighed and stood up. "Fine, I'm coming."

Peter felt his facial muscles relax slightly. This was going over easier than he'd expected; he had seen the look Susan had given Helen before dashing away and had strongly suspected he would never get her out of her chamber again. Then he thought of his father's likely scolding for him allowing his little sister to behave in such a shocking manner and felt them tighten up twice as much as they had been before. There seemed no way that everyone could be pleased. And yet people wondered why he wasn't going to Cair Paravel next year! Honestly!

The final arrangement was this, Lucy would take her etiquette lessons in one of Susan's upstairs sitting rooms and would at the same time, instruct her new teacher in speaking proper English (Helen wasted no time in pointing out that her younger, under educated girl, knowing something that Susan did not should be proof enough that something needed to be done about her. However it offended Lord Pevensie, who paid for instructors for his son who had in turn instructed his sister, more than it offended anyone else and Helen was forced to do something she rarely did, admit she was out of line).

As for Susan and Helen, they managed formal apologizes to each other in a very begrudging manner but glared at each other and clenched their jaws while speaking, clear signs that their quickly-forming rivalry was far from ended. Peter felt a wave of over-whelming anxiety and actually brought his thumb nail to his mouth, catching himself just as he was about to bite down on it.

The lessons which in themselves could be quite dull at times and the arguments between Helen and Susan, Peter and Lord Pevensie, Susan and Lord Pevensie, Peter and Helen, and on occasion even Lord Pevensie and Helen, or Tumnus and Helen, took their toll on Lucy. She thought she might be able to endure her somewhat unsettling new home for a few more months or perhaps a year but she didn't see how she could go on living there permanently.

Something always seemed to be going wrong. Helen was upset or Lord Pevensie was vexed about this or that thing, or else Susan had a nightmare during the night and Peter went to comfort her and Helen stuck her oar in saying that Susan was old enough not to have to have her brother come to her at that hour. Thick walls may have blocked out some of the sound of the arguments but they could do little for the awareness that they were happening somewhere in the house.

Thankfully, weekends were nicer. On these weekends, Helen and Lord Pevensie usually had a breakfast investment discussion over this or that lord's house which they simply couldn't miss so the children had their breakfast with Tumnus in his study. They could talk about different things and Lucy was allowed (even by Susan) to lick her fingers or burp if she wanted to. Then, they would help Tumnus carry the trays of food down to the kitchen maids before returning to his study to listen to him play his flute for an hour while their stomachs cooled.

"Music is good for digestion." Tumnus always told them whenever they seemed over-eager to leave the room early.

After a good hour of wholesome relaxing music, Peter would go down to visit Edmund and Digory, taking Lucy with him. These were short visits, most of which Helen didn't know took place but they were heavenly to Lucy.

Edmund was set on teaching Lucy swordsmanship whether or not Helen approved and Digory would simply pretend to turn a blind eye to the matter while Peter alternatively did the same and gave pointers. When Lucy's arm became too tired to lift the sword Edmund had loaned her any longer, Peter and Edmund practiced and she sat on rock beside Digory so they could share a quick lunch and watch the young men fence.

During all this, Susan was never present. She never came with them to see Edmund and Digory. She was distrustful and eerie of both and had no wish to watch sword fights anyway-although she was quite fond of archery. Still, without anyone to speak with (Tumnus was busy working a book he was writing during his free time), she felt sort of lonely and would sit by the window, with her sparrow and robin in their cage by her side, looking out at the world. In the colder weather she looked out through rows of thorns, when the sunshine came and the roses around her window bloomed, she looked at the world through a beautiful ruby-red frame of petals.

One day, sitting there, she saw one rose in full bloom that hung out of it's loop, blocking her view. Opening the window a crack to reach out with her brother's old pocket knife which he had given her three years ago, she saw a familiar young man going by. He was young with shoulder-length dark hair, a Telmarine.

Seeing Caspian there, realizing with silent horror that the Telmarine visitors (likely including Miraz) had not left Narnia and returned to Telmar, Susan let go of the knife-which was now more than half way in the rose's stem-and slammed the window shut, fastening the lion-clasp as tightly as possible.

Caspian blinked in surprise, wondering why she was hiding from him. He heard a sharp clank on the ground below him and saw the large rose and the knife which had fallen from their place on Susan's window. He picked up the rose, ignoring the feeling of the thorns digging into the flesh of his fingers. Although he barely knew her, he liked her and was glad to have the token, even if she hadn't actually given it to him.

**AN: Please review!**


	17. Marred

**AN: I am soooooo sorry for the long wait on this chapter; I hope it was worth it. On a side note, if anyone's wondering, the novella mentioned in this chapter is not something I made up, it's a real book called, "Devdas" By Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay.**

"Come with us, Susan." Lucy offered, standing by the canopy-covered bed in Susan's chamber.

"No." Susan answered wearily. "I don't want to go down to see the scholarly swordsmen, you know that."

"We're not going to see them today." Lucy said, feeling quite certain she had already told Susan that before. "Ed and his grandfather are away this weekend-with investors." A satyr had requested a special sword with a tin can shaped hilt and had invited Digory and his grandson over to his house to go over the plans with them.

That's right, Susan thought grimly to herself, I knew that. Of course, it doesn't matter where they're going. It's not safe with Miraz probably still out there parading the streets of Narnia if he hasn't left since last weekend.

"Why is it so dark in here?" Lucy wanted to know, motioning over to the thick curtains tied together on the windowsill.

Susan shrugged and pulled herself further up onto the center of her bed, bringing her knees to her chest.

Lucy decided to focus on the situation at hand for now. "We're only going out to the back meadow-it's on your father's property."

"No thanks." Susan said softly, sliding her arms around her knees in a self-protective way. "You and Peter go have fun."

"But it's such a beautiful day." Lucy protested, marching over to the window, unfastening the curtains, and flinging them open.

A bright wall of sunlight poured into the previously unwelcoming chamber, falling everywhere in sharp golden puddles so perfect they almost made your eyes ache.

The robin and sparrow looked up from their cage in complete shock; they had not seen the sun for nearly a week and it was likely that in their small minds they had long forgotten what it was. Perhaps they had sensed something missing though, for they had been rather withdrawn unable to be coaxed from one side of their cage to another even when Susan offered them blueberry tart crumbs from a few teas ago, and now they seemed to come to life again, amazed that all the world was not pitch black.

As for Susan, Lucy had to choke back a gasp when she saw her. She had not come out of her chambers for her meals this week, not even when Peter begged and pleaded or when Helen and Lord Pevensie sent up partially empty threats of, "You'll get nothing to eat if you don't join us." She wasn't stupid, she knew perfectly well that either Tumnus, Peter, or Lucy would bring her something to eat-so why should she bother to leave the room?

Now she was paler than ever; the sunbeam that hit her right cheek seemed almost to go right through its ghostly whiteness as if lighting up an ethereal pearl-like lamp in the far corner of the room. Her long black hair fell all around her face, shoulders, and thin narrow hips like a rich, glossy veil resting upon the top of her head.

This almost inhuman, other-worldly appearance of her stepsister filled Lucy with more determination than ever to get Susan to come outside with them. She wouldn't let her waste away to nothing just because she was scared. Everyone was scared but resting in the dark like some elderly monk mere hours from passing away was not the answer to their problems.

"You're coming with us." Lucy said firmly, reaching for her stepsister's hand, ready to pull her off the bed and drag her out the door if need be.

Susan blinked in the sunlight, which stung her eyes and made little green and black spots and swirls float around in front of her face. She could feel her pupils rapidly dilating after being in the dark for so long. Once she adjusted to this change and her head stopped aching and pounding, she turned to Lucy.

"I'm not coming." Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away, unwilling to let a little girl like Lucy see her cry.

"You _are_." Lucy fought the urge to stamp her foot by digging her gray-leather sandals into the braided rug beside Susan's bed.

"I can't." Susan insisted but in a weak, wavering sort of tone.

"Just for an hour then." Lucy said, borrowing Peter's way of reasoning. "For a little fresh air and some sunlight."

"It not like there isn't air inside." Susan said tersely-surprising Lucy by reverting from the modern Narnian they'd been speaking in up until that point to English.

Sighing deeply, Lucy wandered over to the wardrobe at the far end of the room, and flung its heavy double-doors open with even more vigor than she had used on the curtains a little while earlier.

Susan let go of her knees and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, squinting across the room at Lucy. "What are you doing?"

Rather than answer right away, Lucy moved aside a row of winter coats that should have been moved months ago when the hot weather set in but had long been forgotten in favor of more pressing issues, and looked through Susan's dresses until she found a long green one of summer fabric. picking the corner up in a firm handful, not bothering to worry about possibly wrinkling it, she tossed it to Susan.

She had meant for it to land in her lap, but it hit her lower leg and fell at her feet instead. Susan bent down and picked it up, looking back at Lucy who was wearing a look of unbreakable determination on her face as she walked over to the door.

"Get dressed." Lucy said finally, leaving the room.

Out of sheer aggravation, Susan did something she rarely did, curse under her breath both in English and in Narnian before standing up and walking over to the mirror, carrying her dress in a crumbled disarray in her left hand.

The new sunlight which was still entering the chamber in long spurts, fell on the mirror's silver, revealing a thick layer of dust which had not been cleaned away in nearly two weeks. Susan had refused to allow any maids in her room as of late, she wanted to be alone, not kept company by some wispy little lass from under stairs with a feather duster. Peter might have cleaned it away for her if he'd thought to, only his mind had been on other things and he hadn't gotten around to it. Because of this dust, the only part of the mirror that shone and glittered in the light was the little crack in the far right corner.

Looking at her somewhat distorted reflection-the dust making her unblemished face look almost speckled-she was reminded of a drawing Peter had once done of her with coloured pencils. In it, she as a girl of perhaps a dozen years old or so, was standing in front of a full sized mirror made of shattered bits glued back together. One of her hands reached up to touch the side of the twisted image that peered back at her through the silvery fractures and the other was clinging tightly to the back of her cotton-or at least it _looked_ like cotton-dress as if ready to lift it and flee. In that one drawing, Peter had captured Susan's post kidnapped nature perfectly; it was likely some of his best work.

Susan reached for the daisy-embroidered handkerchief on the nearby breakfront, using it to wipe away the dust so she could see herself. She may have been depressed, frightened, and starved for sunlight but it seemed to have no effect on her beauty. Her looks themselves, yes. The beauty of them, not so much. She was paler, her hair seemed to hang just a little looser because none of it was put up, and her eyes lacked any spark of life-any sign of interest in the world. All of this was true and yet she knew-had known-even without looking in the mirror, that she was still beautiful. She would still be gazed upon in wonder by visitors who would marvel and wonder-looking at Lord Pevensie thinking, "How did _she _come out of you?" That awful Tarkaan Rabadash would still fall all over himself at catching sight of her. She found herself envying Lucy in this matter. How wonderful it must be to look _normal_! Not ugly, just ordinary. To have a simple honest face, unnoticed by most but enjoyed by those who got to know you. She couldn't help wondering whether or not Miraz would have grabbed her and stolen her away if she had been a plainer child in appearance. Lord Pevensie wasn't the only wealthy man around with a daughter and it wasn't as if Miraz had done it for ransom money anyway.

Shuddering inwardly in revulsion of her own perfect face, Susan took off her night-clothes and slipped her dress over her head pulling it down so that the lowest green folds reached her ankles.

She thought of a novella Tumnus had once read to her and Peter a few years back. In it, the main character-a weak loser in the game of life who ended up drinking himself silly, ruining his liver and eventually killing himself-left a blood mark on his childhood sweetheart's face because it wasn't right for one person to have so much beauty to themselves; even the moon was marked, he had pointed out to the girl. Susan had often thought of marring her own face somehow, wondering if it could possibly relief her of her cursed life in any way. She could make a small cut on her cheek; small and clean enough so that it didn't become fatal but deep enough so that it would leave a nice long scar. Try as she might to picture a scar on her cheek or a blood mark on her upper forehead or perhaps her brow, her imagination wasn't good enough to develop it. She hadn't done anything to herself yet, partially because her own hand kept shaking whenever she attempted anything of the sort causing her to realize she didn't have it in her. Even now, that wasn't who she was. A person who could do that to themselves. Neither Peter nor Tumnus would ever do it for her and she was not foolish enough, even in her younger years, to ask them. Thus, she remained perfect. Blessed in face yet cursed in heart and vanity for ever with no hope for escape.

Now she examined the effect of her dress. Flattering, but too big around the waist-she'd lost some weight since the last time she had worn it. She fixed this with a braided brown belt she found in hanging off of a coat-hook unused for nearly a year.

There was a knock at the door. "Su, are you decent?"

"Yes, come in." Susan sighed, knowing who it was, having guessed it even before he spoke.

Peter opened the door and walked in. "Lucy says you're coming with us."

Susan sighed, giving in completely. "Yes."

He smiled, looking relieved. "Good."

"Only for an hour, it's not safe." Susan said in a dull, trance-like voice.

"Even if Miraz is still here in Narnia, I highly doubt he will turn up in our back meadow in broad-daylight." He tried in an attempt to ease her discomfort.

"It was broad daylight when he took me before." Susan recalled, blinking back tears and feeling suddenly like a very small child all over again.

"You'll be safe with me and Lucy, I promise." He said gently in that reassuring tone she could no longer get from her father and had to rely on her brother for.

She believed him; he always looked after her.

"Come on, Su." His hand stretched out, wiggling a few inches away from her own, waiting for her to take it.

"Only for an hour." she reminded him, putting her hand in his as he gently led her out of the room and down the south hallway towards the one of the glass doors where Lucy was waiting for them.

The promised hour had come and gone almost twenty-five minutes ago, but Susan pretended not to realize this. At this moment, the meadow was just as soothing as a bed chamber and at least twice as cheerful.

They'd spent the first half-hour or so with the three of them working on a daisy chain. Susan and Peter debated over who could make the longest one-Susan's turned out longer. Lucy made a little crown out of the daisies and a few yellow dandelions; she put it on her own head and they smiled at her. Susan tried it on and then, winking at Lucy, took it off of her own head and placed it on Peter's. He brushed it off in a great hurry and they all burst out laughing at his reaction.

After a while, Peter wandered off to walk some of the farther-off hills alone so he could stand on the little green hill, over looking some of the distant wheat hills, and catch a few moments alone to think.

Meanwhile, Susan and Lucy squatted by the bank of a small stream which ran through the east end of the meadow. They took off their sandals, burying their toes in the cool stone-studded mud, little spurts of water gently hitting the sides of their feet.

"I forgot how nice it was." Susan said quietly, as if unsure whether or not she was talking to herself or trying to start a conversation with Lucy.

"How nice what was?" Lucy asked her, peering up into her face curiously.

"To stand in the mud by the bank." Susan explained, looking down at her mud-encased feet. "My mother and I...we used to come out here sometimes...Peter used to fly his kite while we just sat right where you and I are standing now and watched the sun set..."

"I'm sorry." Lucy said, not knowing what else to say.

"Do you miss yours, too?" Susan asked abruptly.

"Do I miss my what?" Lucy crinkled her forehead, taken slightly aback.

"Your father."

"Oh." She looked down at the swiftly moving water as a little orange fish swam by. Lucy did miss her father, she just didn't like to think about it, and much as she hated to admit it-the sting of losing him had long ago started to fade. She used to think about him at least every other day, now it was every few weeks or so that the image of the tired-looking man a few years older than Helen looking wearily into the practically non-existent fire in their little cottage in Ettinsmoor popped into her head.

"_Do_ you?"

"Yes."

"Does it still hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"I see."

"He was always worn down, that's what I remember the most about him." Lucy sighed. Looking over to Susan, she added, "What do you remember most about your mother?"

"The way she used to look at Peter and me when we were naughty." Susan admitted coyly. "That woman could have made the devil himself feel remorse if she tried, Tumnus used to say jestingly."

They paused for a moment and a cry of, "Lucy! Lucy! Where are you?" rang through the air.

Turning around, Lucy saw Marjorie running towards them as quickly as her legs would carry her.

Lucy stepped out of the bank and fast-walked over to Marjorie. Noticing the stricken look on her friend's face she said, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Marjorie panted for breath; her were cheeks flushed scarlet, her stockings covered with server grass-stains that would never come out, and her eyes as big as supper platters. She didn't take time to remove the little twig that was stuck to one of her curls or to smooth out her wrinkled dress, rather she turned to Lucy in a panic, stammering with an inaudible tone-desperately trying to tell her something.

Finally she managed to blurt out. "Oh, Lucy, it's terrible, Peter's in danger-I think."

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked slowly, in a pale-sounding voice.

"It's Maugrim!" Marjorie bawled, starting to hyperventilate. "He's gotten out!"

Susan raised an eyebrow and finally acknowledged Marjorie's presence by speaking to her directly. "What do you mean, 'gotten out'?"

"He's escaped from the inn!" Marjorie cried out, leaning on Lucy's right shoulder so she didn't loose grasp of it all and fall to her knees from the shock of the wolf's escape and from her breathless run.

"How?" Lucy wanted to know, feeling as if she was in a dream she was about to wake up from.

"I'm not sure." Marjorie explained hurriedly. "His chain was broken. He must have snapped it somehow; maybe there was one little crack in part of one of the links and he-" She paused, shuddering and sobbing at the same time.

"Let's go find Peter." Lucy said, taking charge of the situation and a step forward.

Suddenly the bushes to the right of her rustled and a familiar black nose popped out. Sure enough, there stood a Maugrim, snarling at her and Susan.

In a panic, the three girls made a dash for a nearby tree and pulled themselves up into it. Lucy-who had climbed more trees than Marjorie and Susan put together-made it to the safest, highest, spot, protected in the near center by the tangle of knobby branches. Marjorie was a couple of branches lower but reasonably safe from Maugrim's snapping jaws below. Susan, her face white as a sheet and her expression filled with unbreakably grave fear, did not manage to get any higher than the lowest branches.

Though she clung tightly to the rough bark with both hands, it seemed very much like she was going to faint and fall off. Marjorie would have tried to help and pull her higher but she was so paralyzed by her shaking shoulders and too racked by her blurry tears her eyes were filled with to move so much as an inch. As for Lucy, she was so high up that she knew she would not reach Susan quickly enough and would be likely to be snatched up by the wolf's bared teeth herself.

Maugrim's teeth were mere inches away from Susan's left leg which she failed to swing back up when it slipped down from it's branch. Just as he reached out to grab her with his powerful jaw, she let out a mournful shriek, turned the colour of snow itself, and fell backwards off the tree to the downy turf below.

"Susan!" Lucy screamed, leaning forward from her own protective group of branches; tears falling down from her eyes like steady rainfall.

Marjorie started blubbering all over again so loudly that even Maugrim seemed partially distracted by it.

If the wolf had leaped onto Susan's unconscious body right away, there would have been no hope and she would have been long dead-torn to bits-by the time Peter reached her; but Maugrim, for some unknown reason, felt he really must throw back his head and let out a howl before attacking his prey. Perhaps there was a shred of honour within his bad self that held him back for that moment. Or maybe he was simply singing a song of victory over catching one of Peter's kin so quickly after his escape. Whatever the reason, it was Susan's salvation.

Just as the wolf lunched at her, Peter's sword-the one Edmund and Digory had made for him-was thrust right into Maugrim's side, so deeply that it pierced his heart and made him fall back.

Peter had been on his way back to check on Susan and Lucy and had heard their screams in the distance. He had forced his tired, cramped legs to run as fast as they could in hopes of reaching them in time.

Now the wolf, lay bleeding half-on and half-off of Susan's side, unable to get up and fight him. Peter felt his eyes fill up with tears; Maugrim would surely die now, he couldn't be saved and he, Peter Pevensie, was his killer.

Taking his last raspy breaths, looking at Peter through the slits of his slowly closing eyes, the wolf's throat relaxed and let out a weak bay.

"I'm sorry." Peter said softly, looking down at the dying creature. "I had to, you know why I did."

"I know." Maugrim answered faintly. "It was a question of honour and faith. You have been faithful to your family and I, I have been faithful to my vow-or at least tried to be."

"Why didn't you stay put?" Peter asked finally.

"Don't waste my last seconds of life with stupid questions, Master Peter." He snarled, sounding almost like a bit of life was returning to him.

Peter looked at Lucy and Marjorie peering down at him from their places in the tree, then at Susan who lay perfectly still in the grass, and finally back to the wolf.

"Listen," Maugrim said, speaking his last words. "There is a collar around my neck, take it when I die for it may prove to be useful to you some day." Then his eyes closed completely.

Convinced that he was dead, Peter pulled him away from Susan and leaned forward to examine the creature's neck. Brushing aside a layer of fur, he saw a silver wreath with leaves of gold and diamond clusters interwoven into it. Reaching to take it off of the wolf, Peter's leg came closer to the creature's jaws which instantly snapped open and grabbed into it.

He let out a cry of pain and Lucy and Marjorie screamed at the top of their lungs, "Peter!"

Coming deep from within Maugrim's chest there could be heard a deep rumbling laughter as he refused to let go of Peter's leg. Then at last, he died for real, died laughing with his final victim's limb tightly between his teeth. We can truly say that he died happy.

When it became apparent that the wolf was no longer alive, Lucy managed to get down from the tree and to help Marjorie after her. They ran to Peter who was struggling to free his leg but he sharply told them to make sure Susan was alright. They did and with a little water from the bank, managed to wake her. Then the three of them together pulled at the dead Maugrim's jaws until it snapped open with a horrible crack.

Susan felt a bit of blood on her face which she was certain was her own and not the wolf's. It was high up and very close to the hairline. Small-barely noticeable-but there all the same; deep enough to leave a small scar when it healed. With out knowing he was doing it, Maugrim had given her what she had longed for, freedom from complete perfection.

**AN: Please review!**


	18. The wolf's bane wounded knight

**AN: Sort of a filler chapter needed in the plot to pull the story along. **

The second Peter's blood-stained leg was peeled away from the dead wolf's teeth, Marjorie gasped and put her hand to her heart.

At that all three girls fell into his open arms in post-hysterics and he clung to them tightly, pulling them close. After a few moments, Susan and Lucy let go but Marjorie was still holding onto him. Unable to bear all her weight on his hurt leg anymore, Peter gently nudged her away.

When they'd all caught their breaths and found their voices again, Peter sank down into the grass trying to clot the blood with a scrap he had torn away from the bottom of Susan's dress and said, "Marjorie, take Susan back to the house and get help."

Lucy wasn't sure what to do until she felt him reach up and grab onto her elbow. "Stay with me, please."

She got down on her knees beside him in the grass. One of his hands still held onto his leg but he clung tightly to her hand with the other.

He's still in shock from the whole thing, Lucy realized, knowing that this was probably to be expected from the whole messy scene she'd just witness, squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Peter-" Susan began to protest weakly before Marjorie led her away from the bank, the tree, and the meadow, back to the safety of Lord Pevensie's east-facing back glass-door.

Lucy and Peter watched the sun setting beyond the distant hills, silently waiting for help to come. Neither knew what to say to the other. Eventually, Peter seemed to gather up his courage again and he went over to Maugrim's corpse. Using great care, he slit the wolf's soft gray-velvet throat so he could remove the collar. Lucy whimpered but didn't protest understanding that soon buzzards would be likely to come and pick the flesh away; Peter would have no later chance to take it.

He wobbled over to the bank and dipped the beautiful wreath in the water to wash it clean. In the last rays of the sun before it vanished, it shimmered like an angel's circlet, a halo of silvery light resting between Peter's fingers.

A sight more wonderful even than that, could be seen through the trees to the right of them. A lovely golden Lion stood there, watching them closely.

As soon as she saw him, Lucy knew it had to be the Aslan she had dreamed about and longed for all her days. It was him; the Lion she would have given anything to meet and here he was padding towards them, making only the lightest of sounds in his footfalls.

"Hullo, Aslan." Peter said, limping towards the great golden beast and lowering his head respectfully.

"Peter," He said severely but not unkindly, in a voice that Lucy would remember all her life. "You clean the wolf's silver garland but you have forgotten your own sword." He looked beyond Peter to the blood-smeared sword with traces of Maugrim's hair still stuck to parts of it and then raised a fair gold eyebrow.

Realizing his mistake, Peter made haste to clean it off and when he did, he kneeled before Aslan and placed it on the ground by his paws. Lucy watched in surprised wonder and innocent awe, as Aslan's great cat-lips grabbed onto the hilt and gently lifted it to Peter's shoulders. First his left then his right, gently resting it on the top of his head to finish the strange ceremony.

Peter continued to kneel a few moments longer and for one horrible second, Lucy thought it was because his hurt leg lacked the strength to pull him back up. Then she discovered the real reason.

"Rise," Aslan said after he had placed the sword back on the ground. "Sir Peter wolf's bane, Knight of Narnia."

A little smile formed on Peter's face as he looked over to Lucy who grinned at him encouragingly. Even though he wasn't going to Cair Paravel with Edmund this upcoming year, he was being knighted anyway.

Rising slowly, Peter found that his leg no longer hurt him quite as much. It felt more like a distant sting, a scab mere days away from healing completely. And although the teeth-marks remained, they didn't look quite as vivid or bruised. The dark purple discolouring around the higher-up unbloodied skin, looked a little lighter now as well.

Now the three of them stood still; both young man and little girl unable to remove their gaze from Aslan as he stood in front of them in the darkness, his fur glowing like a pile of embers in the darkness which they now realized they were standing in. The moon was up and, across the vast black sky, thousands of diamond-like stars glittered over-head.

Lucy reached out her hand to touch Aslan's mane, for although she could not find the words to speak to him, she felt she could not pass up the chance to feel the Lion's fur. Would it feel smooth as butter as she always imagined it would or perhaps rougher, closer to the feeling of rubbing velvet up the wrong way?

Seconds away from making contact at last, Lucy heard someone calling her name. Aslan lifted his head up and looked at the little balls of light traveling along the nearby trees. Lanterns. Peter and Lucy would be found and rescued now, there was no need for him to remain any longer. With one last solemn nod in Peter's direction and one faint half-smile to reassure Lucy, he turned quickly and padded away until all they could see of him was the tip of his lovely tail quivering in the far-off shrubbery like the end of a fine paint brush, and then, nothing. Nothing at all. It was as if he had never been there at all.

Peter lost the strength in his injured leg again. It swelled to about twice it's normal size and he fell to the ground at Lucy's feet.

"Peter?" Lucy gasped loudly enough so that the search party discovered them by the bank at last and ran over to them.

A group of the household servants, led by Tumnus, stood before them carrying large oil lanterns as they called out for their young master and mistress.

"Master Peter, you're hurt!" Tumnus exclaimed. He had expected something of the sort but from Susan, he could get no answer at all; from Marjorie, he could get only sobs and stammers. From all he understood, there was some sort of accident in the meadow and Peter and Lucy had been left behind.

"What happened?" Gasped one of the servants closest to him.

"I think we have our answer." Another servant replied gravely, holding his lamp over the dead wolf's body which looked even more gruesome in the poor lighting.

"Oh!" Gasped one servant who happened to be a rather flighty female faun, putting her hand to her forehead as if she was about to swoon.

"Don't you go fainting now!" The servant to the left of the one standing by the dead wolf exclaimed irritably. "We don't want to have to carry you all the way back, or worse, have to send out another search party later."

"Lucy!" A familiar voice cried out from the other side of Lord Pevensie's land.

Edmund and Digory came running towards them through the tall grass. Digory carried a lantern and Edmund had his hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice travel further.

"Edmund?" Lucy said, blinking in at his shape in confusion and surprise.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Asked the female faun.

"Thank Aslan!" Edmund gasped, rushing over to Lucy and throwing his arms around her in a friendly hug. "I was so worried. Oh, Lu, you are alright, aren't you?"

"Yes, _she's_ fine." Peter said in a sort of bitter half-joking tone from his place on the ground.

"Here, help me get him up." Tumnus said, bending down and lifting one of Peter's arms over his shoulder.

Edmund released his grip on Lucy's shoulders and went over to Peter's other arm, pulling it over his shoulder so that between himself and Tumnus', Peter would be able to walk without putting pressure on his hurt leg.

"How did you know we were here?" Peter asked, glancing at Edmund.

"I was near _'The Lion's Den' _when Marjorie came by in hysterics." He explained. "All I heard was something about Maugrim attacking you and Lucy...and Susan fainting...and the two of you getting left behind...I had to come."

Digory nodded. "Came bursting through the shop, said Lucy needed him and-"

Edmund's face flushed red although it couldn't be seen in the darkness. "I told you Peter _and _Lucy needed me."

"No," Digory prattled on obliviously. "You said-"

Edmund leaned close to his grandfather and glared at him.

Digory got the hint and stopped talking.

"Let's start heading back now." Tumnus suggested after a moment. "Lord Pevensie and Lady Helen are waiting at home."

"Edmund," Peter whispered, leaning close to his friend's ear. "Can you stay over? I don't want to be alone with my family, not tonight." He thought of how timid and unreachable Susan was likely to be and how his father would possibly yell over all the distress his children brought upon him and of course of Helen sticking her oar in. Just playing those images in his mind made him cringe inwardly; he might have cringed outwardly as well if he hadn't the comfort of knowing that he was a knight now.

Edmund wasn't certain he liked the idea of staying over very much. Although he and Peter were good friends, he had never spent the night at Lord Pevensie's manor. Of this, he was rather pleased. Who would want to live in a house like that, with so many dark secrets, however large and elegant it was? Yet, he could see near-desperate need in his friend's eyes and, being the good person he was, agreed to stay the night.

When they reached the manor, Lord Pevensie and Helen were waiting for them in the south-west parlor. Helen launched into a lecture about how she didn't approve of Peter allowing Lucy do go about and do such dangerous things in her spare time until Lord Pevensie told her for the love of all that was good and holy to shut up.

He asked Peter a few short questions about what had happened and then, as if having little or no emotional attachment to the situation, called Tumnus to his side and told him a dry tone to send for the doctor first thing in the morning to make sure the wound wasn't infected.

"Go to bed, Peter." Lord Pevensie finished shortly.

"Digory and Edmund will be staying with us tonight." Peter informed his father.

"Very well then." Lord Pevensie said, without taking his gaze off of the grandfather clock to the right of them.

"They have their own house." Helen grumped, spinning a diamond ring around on her middle finger.

"After the hospitality we showed you, it's a wonder you can say that." Digory said coldly. "And if you do have something to say, you don't need to be high and mighty about it as if we weren't in the room; addressing us directly will not kill you."

"Impertinent, we worked for _our _stay!" Helen practically spat, standing up and storming off to her bedchamber without even bothering to say goodnight to Lucy.

Lord Pevensie turned away from them and looked tiredly into the dying embers in the black-stoned fireplace, rubbing the sides of his forehead making him look much older than he really was. He had seen too much in his lifetime.

That night, unable to sleep, Peter and Edmund stayed up talking. Peter told him about Aslan knighting him and then fleeing the scene before the search party arrived.

"You didn't tell your father." Edmund realized.

Peter sighed and reached for the cup of tea Tumnus had brought up for him, being careful not to move his leg which was propped up on a stack of goose-feather pillows. "He wouldn't believe me."

Edmund nodded in dismal agreement. Peter was probably right. Everything in this household was a complete mess, the lines of trust blurred so often that it became wonder you could tell they were even there at all.

"I believe you." Edmund said quietly.

Peter smiled and took a sip of his tea. "I know, that's why I told you."

"So I guess this officially makes you a wounded knight." Edmund grinned at him.

"I suppose it does." Peter agreed with a slight laugh, looking out the window as the sun started to rise, lighting up the parts of his father's land he could see from his spot in the chamber.

There was a faint wind and he could see light brown stalks of wheat blowing in the early morning breeze. Somehow this always reminded him that no matter what, no matter how bad things got, life always moved along-whether or not you were willing to move along with it.

**AN: Please review!**


	19. A farewell to swords

Time passed and just as Peter had always known it would, life went on. Nothing really changed; Helen was impossible to please and a rather unpleasant ladyship even to the most meek of the servants and Lord Pevensie continued into steady withdrawal reaching out only to voice displeasure or to shake his head disapprovingly at Susan or Peter. In Lucy and in the servants he found no fault nor any pleasure-they were simply there, considered good because they never gave him a day's concern. As for Susan, she was his most constant trial.

After the wolf attack, she refused for three days to come out of her bed chamber or even to let anyone in. Even Peter and Tumnus were routinely turned away. Peter strongly suspected that she didn't want to see him walking in limping on his hurt leg because she blamed herself for it. As if getting attacked by the wolf had having him intervene was her own fault. Lucy was the first person she was willing to see, then Tumnus, and last, nearly two weeks later, she allowed Peter to come in and begged his forgiveness. It didn't matter what he said; he told her that it was all for the best in the end because he had met Aslan and been knighted and that she had done nothing wrong at all. His words never reached her. She believed unbreakably that she was the cause of his pain and as for Aslan knighting him, she managed to convince herself that it had never happened to begin with-that he had simply been delirious. The fact that Lucy had witnessed the knighting fell on the deaf ears of Susan's self-imposed guilt and were quickly and quietly dismissed.

Helen called her a troublesome child, pointing out harshly that her own daughter did not need to be coaxed out of corners or coddled into submission the way Susan did. Lord Pevensie, who had long ago learned not to attempt to argue with his wife, simply did his best to tune her out and to focus his mind on his business investments-relieving himself from his stress by scolding Peter for the slightest offence as if Susan's behavior was his fault.

In her guilt, Susan found this mistreatment of her brother highly displeasing and, knowing well that Helen was the one making things worse-sure without shadow of doubt that it was her words coming out of their father's mouth when he rebuked them-showed her displeasure by refusing to leave the northern hall where her seventh sitting room was located, knowing Helen would have no business in that part of the house.

During of all this bitterness, Peter's leg healed and Lucy turned twelve-both events barely even noticed. Peter rarely complained of the pain from his leg and when he started walking normally again, most of the household servants simply nodded and went back to work. As for Lucy, with all the troubles and daily concerns life brought the nobles and servants alike, no one had time to realize the littlest mistress was growing up right before their eyes. After all, she still behaved and looked pretty much the same as she had at eleven. She was no taller and her face was no thinner-whatever age she was, seemed not to matter very much.

The only pleasure she found in being a little older, was that Peter allowed her on afternoons when Helen was out and lessons had finished early, to go on her own to visit the scholarly swordsmen when he was too busy to accompany her.

Edmund was always delighted to see little Lucy entering the shop. She was no longer in her old habit of her old game-trying to keep the bells from clinging together-rather, weary of trying to make herself so restrained in her own 'home' now, she preferred to fling the door open with as much force as her small-built muscles would allow. Edmund liked this because it meant that no matter where he was, in the back or the front of the shop, or even on the back door-step, he usually would know when she arrived.

Digory was usually the first to greet her in a kind way, not being the sort of man who would hold a girl accountable for her mother's rude manner, and was almost never without an extra smile-knowing well that his grandson's entire week was made with this one little visit. She didn't know how constantly Edmund spoke about her when she was gone because Digory had learned with the passing of time that bringing it up in front of her was not a good idea. Although he did mention more than once Edmund's delight in the fact that Lucy was learning swordsmanship so quickly.

Try as they might to be careful however, swords_ are _sharp and accidents _do_ happen, no matter how much caution is used. Once slip of Edmund's sword hit the side of Lucy's upper right arm. Her lips curled up into a tight wince and her sword-hilt fell from her grasp.

"Oh, Lucy, I'm so sorry-are you alright?" Edmund gasped, dropping his own sword and rushing over to her.

"It's just a scratch." Lucy said quickly, noticing the intense worry in his eyes. "It was an accident, you didn't mean to..."

If she's really hurt I'll never forgive myself, _never_! Edmund thought, furious with himself for not taking better care of her. He'd never hurt her before-this was the first time.

"Is it deep?" Edmund asked, leaning over her shoulder to examine it. "Let me see."

Lucy moved her hand and gently pulled her shoulder out of her sleeve so he could see the cut. The fabric rubbed up against the wound and made it smart-she bit back her lip to keep from crying out. Tears sprang up into her eyes but she blinked them away the best she could.

Edmund had never been filled with more self-hatred before in all his life up until the exact moment he saw the cut. It was a straight line of a gash, not very deep but bad enough so that the skin was broken and a little bit of blood escaped.

"Come on, let's go inside and get that bandaged." Edmund said, gently grabbing onto her hand and leading her in through the back door.

She took a seat on a small three-legged stool and watched Edmund fumble through the dirt-stained, white (in theory) cabinet until he found the disinfectant and the bandages.

"I'm not very good at this." Edmund apologized, struggling to get a good hold on the gauze. "You'll have to have Peter re-bandage it when you get home."

"That's okay." Lucy said, forcing a reassuring smile.

"Peter's going to kill me for this one." Edmund moaned, wrapping the gauze around the side of her arm and then realizing he was twisting it the wrong way which made it too loose, taking it off, and starting all over again. "Not that I blame him."

"Hey," Lucy said in a soft, gentle tone. "It's alright, really."

Finally he got the bandage as close to correctly wrapped as he could manage and breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to miss you." Edmund told her sadly, putting the disinfectant back in the cabinet.

"Why?" Lucy blurted out, pulling her sleeve back over the bandage. "Where are you going?"

"Cair Paravel." Edmund reminded her. "I'm leaving in less than two weeks from now."

Of course she had known he was going this year but not having known exactly when, Lucy had been able to put it out of her mind and very nearly forget about it. Now, she had no choice but to remember.

Her facial expression turned somber and her lips curled downwards and parted slightly. "Oh."

"I'll come to say goodbye before I go and I'll write." Edmund promised, offering his hand to help her up.

"How long will you be gone?" Lucy wanted to know.

Edmund did some calculations in his head. "Perhaps six months or so."

That seemed like such a long time and Lucy felt her heart sink. Edmund was her most comforting friend. She had grown to love Peter deeply but he was so troubled that she could rarely find him in a calm state of mind these days. Of course, she could always come and see Digory but there were some things she couldn't talk about with him, things that only Edmund knew and understood.

The next night at supper, Lucy dinned with Helen, Lord Pevensie, Peter, a lord and lady who had come over as guests, and a petulant-faced Susan who had joined them somewhat against her will.

The fine heavy-plated silver-ware was spread out on the dimly candle-lit table and it took all of Lucy's etiquette training to remember which fork, knife, and spoon were used for which courses. Even so, she picked up the wrong spoon at least twice because of the distraction of her arm, which although no longer really hurting her, felt still and sore today.

Helen leaned over and whispered in her daughter's ear. "Lift your elbow a little higher when you bring the soup to your mouth, you'll spill if you don't."

Lucy switched hands and shakily lifted her left elbow higher up in an attempt to please her mother in front of the guests.

"Why are you using your left hand?" Helen asked, not exactly in a whisper but still in a low tone.

"I-" Lucy glanced nervously over at Peter who shot her a sympathetic glance.

After re-bandaging her arm correctly, Peter had promised Lucy he wouldn't tell Helen about it, understanding how nervous she was about getting in trouble for sword fighting.

"There's something wrong with your arm, isn't there?" Helen gasped, sounding more like a worried mother than a ladyship for the first time in quite a while.

Lucy's eyes filled with tears. "It's-" her throat felt dry and closed before she could get out more than one word. Mother would be furious when she found out. She had so strictly forbidden her not to put any of her swordsmanship knowledge into practice.

Helen moved Lucy's sleeve down a bit so she could see for herself. "What happened?"

Lucy was a very truthful girl and couldn't will herself to lie, not even to protect herself and Edmund. "I hurt it fencing yesterday."

"What?" Helen's brows turned in and her eyes flared angrily.

"Your daughter knows swordsmanship?" The visiting lord seemed impressed. "How interesting."

"Yes, but isn't that a boy's sport?" his wife said, blinking in confusion as if the idea of a girl fencing was as bizarre as a cow flying by the window.

"Lucy, I forbad you-" Helen started.

"I know, Mum." Lucy said tearfully. "I'm sorry."

"Digory's boy put you up to it, didn't he?" Helen demanded crossly, dragging Lucy out of the chair to the other side of the room so she could stare her daughter down until she confessed.

"No, he didn't..." Lucy sobbed. "I wanted to."

Peter felt rotten; he wished desperately that there was something he could do. He looked over at Susan who's face was tightening as she fidgeted irritably with the corner of her embroidered napkin. Suddenly she stood up and marched over to where Helen and Lucy were standing.

Without really thinking, she put her hand on Lucy's shoulder. "It was my fault, I told her to do it."

The visiting Lord's wife gasped, putting her hand to her heart as if a rock had suddenly formed a mouth and spoken.

Helen didn't believe her. "And why, pray tell, would you do that?"

"To spite you." Susan shrugged. It wasn't the truth but if the thought had crossed her mind, she _might _have told Lucy to do something her mother didn't want her to, just for the sake of getting back at Helen.

Helen glared at her stepdaughter. "Liar, go upstairs until you are sent for."

Lucy realized by the tone in her mother's voice that she was getting a little bit more enjoyment out of being seen bossing about the daughter of one of Narnia's most important lords than she really should have.

"You can't tell me what to do." Susan said coldly, unwilling to give her the satisfaction.

Helen looked over to her husband expectantly.

Lord Pevensie sighed. "Helen is the lady of the house and you will obey her or...." He shook his head, too tired to come up with a decent punishment. "...You will just obey her."

Susan didn't move.

"Peter..." He moaned, motioning weakly in his son's direction.

Peter stood up and took Susan's hand. "Come on, Su, let's go upstairs."

She was ready to protest, her eyes filled with a fire that burned deeply from resentment both new and old. Then she saw the tears forming in her brother's eyes, they put the fire out. She wouldn't cause him any more pain than she already had. She loved him too much to make him beg in front of their guests. Quietly, without another word, she followed him upstairs.

After that night, Lucy was told that if she was ever caught doing any sword-fighting again she would get a beating and-a punishment that struck her much deeper-not be allowed to associate with Edmund anymore. This time she only got a warning but she was given a new restriction that she was no longer allowed to even study the theory of swordsmanship, lest she be tempted to disobey orders.

Just as he'd promised, Edmund did come to say goodbye to Lucy before going away to Cair Paravel. It had to be made quick because the carriage service he was traveling in was being paid by the half-hour. Still, he managed a quick goodbye and threw his arms around her in a brief hug.

"Goodbye." Lucy said, feeling even sadder than she had expected as he pulled away.

One of the talking horses pulling the carriage gave his harness bells a shake to remind Edmund that he was waiting.

"I'm coming, Phillip, wait a minute!" He called over his shoulder, stamping his foot in irritation. He smiled apologetically at Lucy. "Horses!"

The oldest washer woman was watching them as she put damp laundry out on the line. Speaking to herself but talking out loud, she said, "That'll be a match one day."

Helen who, unlike Lucy and Edmund, was in hearing distance of the washer woman, frowned deeply and glowered. She didn't like the sound of that one bit.

**AN: Please review!**


	20. Lost in the mail?

It was a rainy morning and Lucy sat at the window seat in the east salon. There were large, curious, out-of-print books in this room that she liked to come and look at sometimes. They were in all different languages; Telmarine, Old Narnian, Lyonfaie (Which used to be spoken in Archenland in the olden days), English, Ettinsmoor Latin, Lantern-waste French, and modern Narnian. Best of all were the pictures; the only person she knew who could draw as well as these old long-gone artists was Peter and he hadn't had any time for art lately.

Today, she had an open copper-bound book propped up in her lap, gazing down at a picture of a Narnian Countess standing beside a unicorn. Lucy gently traced her fingers along the beautiful, angelically white, hooves. So flawless and free of any gray spots it was like the wing of a wedding dove.

She snapped out of her fancies when she heard the door creak open and, ducking slightly under the thick red curtain that concealed her from the rest of the room, she saw Peter enter carrying a book on medicine and a small white envelope.

He sighed deeply and, grunting softly to himself, he eased down into the leather arm-chair and made himself comfortable. Then he set the book down on the tea-table a few inches away from his chair before opening the envelope.

Lucy pulled the curtain back all the way. "Boo."

Having thought he was alone in the room up until this point, Peter jumped and his eyes widened with deep surprise. Realizing it was only Lucy and calming down a bit, he turned to face her.

"By the Lion, you scared me." He spoke rather sternly but was smiling in a friendly manner when he said it.

"What's that?" Lucy asked curiously, pointing to the open envelope.

"Hmm?" Peter said absent-mindedly.

She repeated herself.

"Oh." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's just a letter from Ed."

Lucy wondered if he could sense how uneasy hearing his name made her feel at the moment. Edmund had been gone for almost two months now and he hadn't written her once. She had thought to write him but as time rushed by and no letters addressed to her arrived from Cair Paravel, she had begun to think he didn't like her anymore. Obviously, there couldn't be any other reason he wouldn't write. After all, he was apparently still writing to Peter; it was her he seemed to be trying to avoid.

I wont ask about him, Lucy thought to herself, He doesn't want me to know what he's up to probably.

"How is he?" Lucy blurted out, unable to stick to what her mind was saying. _So much for not asking about him. _

Peter shrugged his shoulders, not really giving it much thought. "The same I guess. He likes training even though it's hard work and he wakes up sore sometimes, made friends with some of the other knights in training except one galoot who keeps shoving him in the mud..." Peter paused, his expression somewhere between a laughing-smile and a wince.

Lucy hated whomever it was that kept shoving Ed in the mud. She didn't know that knight in training and she didn't felt she needed to, she just hated him.

"He's a little disappointed that you never answered any of his letters though." Peter went on. Actually, _disappointed_ was an understatement. From what Peter could tell, knowing his friend and sensing his discomfort, even from miles away, Edmund was down-right upset.

Lucy blinked at him in confusion. "What letters?"

Peter crinkled his forehead. "All of the letters Edmund sent you."

"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked, taking a step closer to him.

"Come on, Lu." Peter said in a firm, fatherly sort of tone. "I know they got here, I see them all the time when Tumnus brings the mail to your mother."

"Wait..." Lucy's brows started to sink into her forehead as the realization of what might be going on started to dawn on her.

"Helen gave me the letters addressed to me, I assumed..." Peter stopped talking, finally understanding why Lucy had seemed so down-hearted these past few weeks-if his guess was correct. "...She never gave them to you, did she?"

Lucy's expression tightened and went from confused to angry in one swift motion as she turned around and stormed out of the room. So he _had_ been writing to her! He'd been writing to her all along and her mother was keeping the letters from her all this time. Now he was going to think she didn't want to be friends with him anymore!

"Lucy wait!" Peter called after her, standing up and over to the doorway, struggling to maintain at least a mild false sense of peace in their household.

Lucy didn't stop, she kept moving as quickly as her legs would take her through the hallways and corridors, heading straight for the southeast wing where her mother was likely to be at this time of day.

In the end, Peter gave up trying to follow her and decided to put a cloak over his shoulders, grab an umbrella and take a walk. The rain outside could turn into a raging tempest and go for forty days and forty nights without stopping and it would still be better than the storms that broke out in their household at times like these. Lucy was furious-and rightly so-about the letters being withheld from her and Helen was likely to be curt and unwavering no matter how the argument played out. Surely, it would come up that he, Peter, had been the one who had told her about the letters in the first place. Helen would be upset with him and would get on Lord Pevensie's case about his 'horrible son' which would probably be countered by the fact that Peter had practically raised his sister. In turn, Helen was likely to say that was the reason Susan was as disrespectful and unmanageable a child that she had ever seen. Moaning inwardly, Peter reached for his hat and walked out the front door.

From her window seat facing the main road, Susan saw him leaving and by the dark, broken, worrisome expression on his face, could tell that something was wrong. Still. when was something ever _not _wrong? Their father marrying Helen had only made a bad situation worse. Wrapping a woolen brown shawl around her shoulders, she walked out of the room and down the stairs.

"Good morning, Lady Susan." Tumnus said cheerfully as he walked by her carrying a stack of old leather-bound books.

"Tumnus, do you know where Helen is?" Susan asked hurriedly.

"I'd recon she's in the southeast wing, my lady." Tumnus shrugged his bare shoulders wondering why Susan wanted to know where Helen was after ignoring her for so long.

Susan didn't bother to explain herself, she simply nodded to Tumnus and thanked him quickly before heading down towards the southeast wing for herself.

Meanwhile, Helen was sitting in a maple-oak rocking chair doing needlepoint. For once, she did not look surly or irritable, seeming perfectly content with herself during this one quiet moment. She had done it. She had fought the odds and taken herself and her daughter from the streets to a fine house in Narnia like she'd always sworn she would. Better still, she had gotten titles for them by marrying a lord. No one could look down on her now.

Harold's awful wife Alberta had been over a few days ago to 'apologize' with some claptrap story about how there were so many people who tried to take advantage of good Narnians and if she had known that Helen _really_ was her dead husbands sister, she would have of course taken her and her daughter in without a second thought. It was all a misunderstanding, she had said theatrically, wiping away invisible tears from the corners of her eyes. And of course now that all misgivings had been cleared surely they could be friends-nay, family-and leave the past behind them where it belonged.

Helen was a lot of things but unintelligent was not one of them. She had no slowness in her wit nor in her tongue. At once, she saw through Alberta's lie and smiled. Two could play at her former sister-in-law's game. Alberta could act and so could she. Helen made a scene of fake-forgiveness that would have made her old drama teacher from her childhood swell up with pride.

Feeling very pleased with herself and quite relaxed, Helen was not at all glad to see Lucy rush into the room without so much as a knock or a greeting.

"Mum!" She exclaimed angrily, putting her right hand on her hip and glaring at her mother. "How could you?"

Helen jabbed her needle into the middle of the fabric she was holding and set it aside before turning to her daughter and sucking in her cheeks. "Lucy, sweetheart, what have I told you about tone?"

"I don't know and I don't care." Lucy blurted out, throwing away any attempt at politeness she might have considered making. "But I do know what you _didn't_ tell me."

Helen stood up and marched over to her daughter. "What's this all about?"

"Like you don't know!" Lucy cried incredulously. "The _letters, _mum!"

"What letters?" She pretended not to know what her daughter was talking about although she knew perfectly well and was actually wondering how she had found out about them.

"The ones Edmund wrote to me." Lucy answered bitterly.

"You mean the ones written to a twelve year old girl by a nearly fourteen year old boy?" Helen raised an eyebrow coyly. "Do you know how unseemly that would appear?"

"It's just Edmund." Lucy said, her tone a little calmer now even though she was still upset.

"If that's so, why are you so worked up about it?" Helen was one of those people who had an answer for everything. "In all honesty, Lucy, I think you _like_ Digory's little brat. Why else would you get so upset?"

"Because you kept it from me." Lucy said, her lower lip starting to tremble slightly as her cheeks flushed red in a mix of furry and embarrassment.

"Come, Lucy, you can't really be stupid enough to believe that he actually cares about you." Helen said borderline mockingly.

Lucy spoke the truth. "He's my best friend."

"What I did, I did for your own good." Helen said finally in a steady, unmoved tone. "You'll thank me for this someday."

"I don't understand..." Lucy stammered. "I mean why..."

"It's high time you got over your fascination with that boy." Helen sighed, reaching over and picking up her needle work again, preparing to sit back down. "A _new _best friend would do you worlds of good."

"What are you saying?" Lucy whispered, her voice starting to give out after all the excitement.

She started pulling the thread harder, with more vigor and purpose as she steadily moved the needle along; forcing tight, perfect stitches into the lacey fabric. "I'm saying this conversation is over, Lucy." She looked over at the wall-clock behind her. "It's early, go find something useful to do."

Holding back tears that she couldn't fully understand, Lucy left the room completely and utterly defeated. She'd always known her mother disliked Edmund but she had never imagined a conversation as puzzling as the one they'd just had. She didn't know what she could possibly say or what her mother really meant by her words; she was too young and innocent to get the full impact of Helen's passive speech.

Susan, who had, unknown to them, been listening at the door, was not. She knew perfectly well what Helen was really saying and why. Susan may not have been fond of Edmund, but she certainly liked him better than she liked Helen and she wasn't going to let her get away with this. If Lucy wanted those letters, she should have them.

That night, after, it must be confessed, crying herself to sleep, Lucy felt someone shaking her shoulder gently.

"Lucy, you awake?"

"Hmm?" Lucy mumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes.

She blinked twice before her vision cleared, revealing a familiar beautiful face with a pale complexion and long, dark hair falling loosely all around it.

"Susan?" She murmured, wondering if she was dreaming. "What are you doing here?"

"I have something for you." Susan told her in a proud, almost strong, sounding voice that Lucy couldn't help but think might have been her regular voice before she had been kidnapped and made timid.

"What is it?" Lucy asked, looking around the room eagerly as if expecting something to jump out at her.

"It's a surprise, I'm going to leave it under the cushion in your reading chair, you can look there in the morning, okay?" Susan smiled at her.

Lucy's curiosity was growing more and more by the second and she wasn't sure if she would make it until morning without knowing what the surprise was. Susan didn't strike her as the sort of person who would do these kind of things. Peter or Tumnus, maybe, but not _Susan_.

Susan yawned and after a few moments, Lucy heard snoring. Susan had fallen asleep on the other side of the bed. Lucy shrugged; the bed was plenty big enough anyway. Besides, there would be less temptation to see what the surprise was before morning if she was here.

A hour later, when the air got a little colder and the fire in the fire place had long died out, Peter peeked in to check on Lucy. He smiled when he saw the two of them fast asleep. He pulled out an extra blanket and put it over them, kissing them both gently on the side of their foreheads.

"My girls." He sighed softly to himself, glancing back at them from the doorway before shutting it quietly as if trying not to wake a sleeping infant.

The next morning when Lucy woke up, Susan was already back in her own bed chamber-having woken early-and the surprise, whatever it was, was under the cushion. Lucy excitedly threw back the covers and bounced out of bed. Lifting up the cushion she leaned forward and saw a buddle of envelopes with post marks from Cair Paravel stamped all over them held together by a thick piece of fraying thread.

**AN: (Please review!)**


	21. Much ado about letters

**AN: Sorry this chapter is a bit on the short side. I plan to make the next one longer. **

Each and every one of Edmund's letters had already been opened and presumably read. There were more of them than Lucy had expected. Judging by the sheer amount and by the post-mark dates, she came to the conclusion that he had written her once a week, every week; possibly more. They were, for the most part, very ordinary sort of letters; pretty much filled the day to day things about his life in Cair Paravel-peppered with a joke or two sprinkled occasionally over the last few paragraphs. His happiest times were recorded, but also his saddest. He confided to her that he secretly feared not being good enough to finish this or that necessary course to qualify for knighthood.

"_Having studied swordsmanship all my life, you would think that I would at least not need to worry about making a klutz of myself, but no, I do worry about it, especially in front of Corin-he's a prince from Archenland come to be a knight of our court here in Narnia because he will never wear his father's crown (He has an older twin brother, you see). The boy must have been born fighting! He's almost two years younger than I am and yet he's so speedy when he's got a blade in his grasp. One of our instructors, Sir Valemon, says that I shouldn't compare myself to him seeing as I'm far more, to quote this demented man, 'graceful' in my movements when I fence than he is. Graceful! I'm trying to be a knight not a ballet dancer, for Aslan's sake! I told him that, too, but he just chuckled. Lu, I know life is going to go on whether or not I make it as a knight, but there are times I think I almost wish it wouldn't._"

Whenever Lucy read passages from his letters that were like this one, in which Edmund wrote to her in deep confidence, she felt her cheeks grow red hot at the thought of her mother reading this when it wasn't meant for her. Lucy felt glad that she didn't know her mother's reactions to any of his words. If she had known them and they weren't understanding, as was more likely than not, she wasn't sure she would have been able to go on respecting her mother the way an honest daughter should.

In one of the letters, he had some surprising news for her, "_Lucy-lu, you will never guess who has turned up here for training! Are you sitting down? Go on, take a seat, I'll wait. Okay, now I can tell you-get ready to laugh until your side aches-it's your own cousin, Eustace! Yes, that aunt of yours actually thought her prissy boy could be a knight! In all fairness, I almost feel sorry for him. He is horribly awkward at practice. And at breakfast. and at the noon meal. And at study hour. And at...well you get the idea. He also always seems to be ill-every day he has a new symptom. I think I could learn to like him for your sake (Even if he was idiot enough to allow his mother to turn you away) if only he wasn't so darn smug! He seems to be an expert on the right way to do everything. The other day, he scolded the grand duchess-the duke of Narnia's own daughter, mind you-because she didn't underline in her study books! She angrily muttered something in Lantern-waste French from which I gathered she did not take his criticism very well. And that was when he was trying to be NICE. Dead serious. When he's trying to be a little beast, he never fails to over step the mark and be a true nightmare. In the short time he has been here, he has done the following: Grabbed a talking mouse (Who come to find out is one of our new instructors, Sir Reepicheep. Who would have guessed?) and swung him by the tail, ruined six perfectly good swords in unmentionably stupid ways, offended nearly everyone at the castle except for maybe the cook-who is hard of hearing and wasn't listening when he bad-mouthed the food, stolen the food he bad mouthed from Cair Paravel's kitchen after hours, and lamed, yes you read that right, LAMED, a royal steed!_"

Lucy smiled at the mention of her naughty cousin, even if she did feel bad for Edmund having to put up with him. At least he had some friends and for the most part, in spite of everything, did seem to be enjoying himself. She wasted no time in writing him a letter in explanation of why she had not answered any of his letters sooner. She apologized and very nearly begged for him to write back soon to assure her that they were still friends.

When she showed the letter to Peter, he recommended that she slip it into the same envelope as his letter to Edmund so that Helen wouldn't be likely to take it out of the post-box and read it before it could be sent. Also, he tore a piece of scrap paper for an extra enclosement in which he wrote: "_Ed, as Lucy has already explained to you in her letter, which you will find enclosed in my own letter to you, Helen has not been giving Lucy the letters you send her. In the future, please address such letters to me or else to Susan and we will see that she gets them. __-Peter_"

So after that, whenever Edmund's letters to Lucy arrived, they were addressed to Peter or Susan. When the letters had been sent under Susan's name for nearly three times in a row, Peter joked that Helen would begin to wonder why he was writing to her so often.

"Let's not say anything, let her think we're courting if she wants to." Susan said mischievously, countering Peter's suggestion of perhaps coming up with an excuse that would make her suspicions die down a bit. "That would create quite a scandal among her little gossip group. Sullen strongly disliked girl courts sword boy."

Peter laughed and shook his head. "I think you're positively _enjoying _deceiving Helen!"

"You've noticed!" Susan said smiled cheekily, letting her old self shine through for a moment, reminding Peter of the olden days of their youngest childhood years when they'd both been two little care-free imps of children who could kick up ruckuses that the neighbors would remember for a decade. Of course, things had long changed between then since then. Now, he was no longer an equal to her-not exactly a playmate anymore-but an advisor, a sort of fatherly professor. He wasn't sure most days if he mourned that loss for any other reason than the fact that it had vanished through pain and suffering, but he did often wonder what their relationship would be like if she'd never been kidnapped. They probably wouldn't have been as close-his love for her had grown rapidly through all the worry she placed upon him-which would have been a shame. Still, he had out-grown the pig-tail pulling stages of his boyhood by the age of ten so what exactly what the answer to his questions would have been remained largely unknown.

On days when new letters from Edmund were slipped into her hands by Peter or Susan as they seemly strolled innocently down the hallway past her, Lucy would clutch it into the folds of her dress and smuggle it unseen over to the gold-and-white staircase in the North-eastern guest wing. She knew it was rarely even touched except by servants who came to polish the large golden griffin statue at the end of the white-gold banister. She would make herself comfortable on the cool white-and-cream swirl coloured marble, take out the letter, unfold it as quickly as her nimble little fingers would allow, and read it. Then she would stare out at nothing, look back at the own letter in her hands, and read it again and again as if for the first time.

"_Today we had a mock tournament. Eustace said it was a rotten business and we'd all end up poking each other's eyes out. Corin told him to shut up. I have to admit, I was a little nervous myself but I would never have said that in front of the others. I say it to you because I know you aren't the sort to hold that against me. Also, so after I get my meek statement out of the way, I can brag a bit (I hope you wont think any worse of me for it) and tell you that I won. I was only unhorsed once and that was AFTER the knight I was training with had already fallen and admitted defeat. In all honesty, Lu, I think you would really like some of the things we do here. You were very handy with a sword when I was teaching you and I assume you'd be a fair shot at archery, too. If there have never been any female knights, you should be the first. But there, I'm talking like a crazy person again, forgive me._"

Lucy answered in a sort of jest: _"I've decided to take you up on your offer, Edmund. I will come to Cair Paravel holding a giant spear (Wont my mum be so terribly proud) and challenge you to a duel in front of all your new friends. No wait, Better plan, I'll swipe Peter's clothing and sword so you wont even know you've been beaten by a girl until it's over. -just kidding, Ed._"

He wasn't the sort not to tease back when he had been teased. "_What fun! After you've disarmed me, you can start polishing all our swords until they gleam. As I seem to recall, you were very good at that once. -it is a jest, Lu, although perhaps not quite as funny as yours._"

And so in such a manner, a full year passed and Lucy turned thirteen.

**AN: Please review!**


	22. The corset incident

Lucy wrapped her fingers tightly around one of the posters of the elegantly carved, mahogany four-poster, swan-feather stuffed, bed trying hard not to think about the sharp pain in her abdomen as the laces around her middle were pulled tighter. She struggling to focus on how funny her knuckles looked as they turned snow-white, a sharp contrast to the reddish-brown wood they were clutching so securely.

The cause of all this pain and fuss was none other than a corset. Now that Lucy was thirteen, her mother thought it appropriate that she wear one and was now in the process of helping her put it on for the first time. Of course, Lucy had tried to dissuade her mother in her new absurd conviction that a corset would make her daughter appear more lady-like but to no avail.

"But Susan doesn't wear one." Lucy had pointed out when her mother had first opened the box she'd come into the room carrying, revealing the dreaded undergarment.

"What Susan does or does not wear, is not going to be the standard for you, Lucy." Helen had said firmly, trying to untwist part of the lace that had been turned the wrong way in the package it had been shipped it.

"Oh, but isn't only Susan, mum." Lucy told her, involuntarily taking a step back at the sight of that horrid, uncomfortable looking thing her mother was now coming towards her with. "_None _of the Narnian women wear them. Few of the Archenlanders, even."

"Which is why I sent for one from Southern Ettinsmoor where they do wear them." Helen said testily, sucking in her cheeks in an irritated fashion. "Now come here and stand still, child!" With that she had for lack of a better word, pounced, on her hapless, wide-eyed, daughter and forced the corset around her middle.

It felt horribly restrictive the instant it touched her body but once Helen started tightening the laces, Lucy thought she was dying. Dying slow and painfully. Her ribs ached and her stomach, not yet devoid of baby-fat, was pushed into something that could only be described as a flattened pancake.

"Not so tight." Lucy protested, gasping for air as she turned her neck to glance back at her mother pleadingly. "It hurts."

"You'll get used to it." Helen said unsympathetically.

Lucy let out a whimper as the laces were pulled tighter still-if that was even possible-and then tied into little bows at the end.

"There!" Helen exclaimed proudly, taking a step back to examine her handiwork.

The result was not nearly as charming as the practically melting face of her mother might have suggested. In spite of Lucy's baby fat, round cheeks, and dimples, she was still-body wise at least-build like a short thin stick. A feature which the corset did not seem up to the challenge of changing. In fact, as far as Lucy could tell, all it had really done was make her small body look smaller and push up her practically non-existent bosom.

"Can I take it off now?" Lucy gasped, hoping her mother would get over her rare sentimentalness and help her out of the horrible thing before it squeezed the living daylights out of her. Exactly how long did her mother expect her to keep the blasted thing on? She couldn't do anything in it. She couldn't even bend over properly.

"No, of course not!" Helen snapped, looking rather frustrated by this point as she put a firm hand on Lucy's right shoulder and pulled on it so she stood up straight-although thanks to the corset half the work as far as that was concerned was already done. "It's an undergarment, you wear it all day under your clothing and take it off at night."

Lucy wanted to cry. Had her mother completely lost it? Didn't she know her daughter at all? Lucy could barely keep still through a whole morning and she anticipated her wearing a corset _all day_? And it was so _tight_! Oh, Aslan, what if her mother meant not just today but _every_ day? Well, if that was the case, it was official; Lucy _hated _being thirteen.

"Don't look at me like that." Helen told her sharply, pulling something else out from the box. "I have something else for you." She lifted up a rather pretty scarlet-coloured dress with an orange bodice and long billowy sleeves. "See?" She said proudly, handing it to Lucy. "It's a brand new dress from one of the nicest spinners in all of Narnia; they were still around when I was a little girl not much older than you and they do make the prettiest things!"

The dress was delightful and if it had been Helen's only present to her that morning, Lucy would have been ecstatic. However, with the corset being so tightly laced, it made the dress look a lot less appealing.

Groaning inwardly, Lucy allowed the dress to be slipped over her head and pulled down and smoothed out at the bottom where it fell just over her white ankle-stockings.

"You look lovely, child." Helen announced, which would have been true if Lucy's face was not scrunched up onto an expression of extreme discomfort, turning it nearly the same scarlet colour as the dress.

At breakfast, Lucy found she could barely keep anything down. The lace-loop's metal hooks and holes dug into her stomach and made it feel both queasy and hopelessly trapped in one position. The dratted thing seemed to be getting tighter on it's own like a python slowly choking the life out of her.

"Lucy, are you alright?" Peter asked, wondering why his little stepsister looked so uneasy and didn't seem to be eating much.

"Oh, she's fine." Helen said shortly, answering for her daughter while eyeing the crock of yellow butter near Peter's left elbow. "Please pass the butter."

"Helen, we have a meeting with an investor in five minutes and it'll take us at least four to get there by carriage." Lord Pevensie warned her, standing up and pushing in his chair. "We have to go now."

"Very well then." Helen sighed, wiping her fingers delicately on the napkin before getting up and following him out of the dinning hall. "Goodbye, children."

Susan made a face behind Helen's retreating back before reassuming eating her meal in her usual bitter morning silence.

Peter looked nervously over at Lucy. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Lucy was so worn out from trying to actually get a bite of food down that she had little strength left for talking so she simply shook her head no.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked.

_It's this darn corset, that's what's wrong!_ She moaned and stood up, feeling more than a little dizzy as she walked slowly out of the dinning hall.

"What do you think that was all about?" Peter whispered to Susan who shrugged her shoulders apathetically, feeling more than a little tired herself that morning.

A few moments later, there was a slight jingling sound at the door and Tumnus rushed over to answer it.

"Company," He hummed to himself cheerfully. "How nice. I wonder who it could be." He wondered if it was maybe Digory coming by for a nice chat and a cup of tea as he did sometimes on mornings when he knew Helen wouldn't be there.

Standing at the door was not Digory at all, but a familiar-looking, dark-haired, young man wearing a jade-coloured tunic over a pair of brown tights, a fine-looking gleaming silver sword hanging loosely off of the ebony belt strapped around him.

It couldn't be! Tumnus felt nearly weepy at the sight of the boy. Could this tall young man really be Master Peter's little friend who had been gone only for one short year?

He smiled at Tumnus who then threw his arms around him happily. "Welcome back!"

Edmund laughed a little pulling away from him. "It's nice to see you, too."

Tumnus shook his head at him. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"

"I wanted to surprise everyone." Edmund shrugged his shoulders, glancing past Tumnus, wondering if Lucy was nearby. "Surprise!"

"Tumnus, did I just hear you yell, 'surprise'?" Peter asked in a confused tone, coming up behind him before he saw Edmund standing there.

"Hey, Pete." Edmund said, taking a step forward into the house. "Long time no see."

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed happily, giving his friend a quick welcome back hug. "I didn't know you were coming back today; is training over already?"

"Well, most of it." Edmund explained. "I'm still not officially a knight yet but I've pretty much completed all of the courses."

"And you passed?" Peter asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Here's hoping." Edmund told him. "I should get a notice in the mail in five to six weeks."

"Well that's great," Peter said encouragingly. "Come on in, I want to hear all about Cair Paravel." He looked hard at Edmund for a moment. "You're taller, I think."

"Three inches taller." Edmund said proudly.

"Atta boy." Tumnus patted him on the back before going down into the kitchen to tell one of the maids to send up some tea and refreshments for their company.

"Is Lucy here?" Edmund asked. It was great to see Peter and Tumnus again but it didn't take a genius to figure out who he was really there to visit.

"I think she's up in her chamber." Peter told him.

"Great seeing you." Edmund smiled at his friend.

"It's great seeing you, too, Ed." Peter said. "I mean it seems lik-"

"Yeah, that's great, bye." Edmund cut him off, heading straight for the direction he was pretty sure Lucy's chamber was in.

"So now that I'm back, why don't we have a nice long chat about life?" Peter said aloud in mimic of Edmund's voice. He did his own voice answering, "No, Ed, that's quite alright, why don't you go find Lucy and tell her you've come back?" Then he mimicked Edmund's voice again. "Are you sure?" In his own voice, "Yes, of course." Then Edmund's again, "Well, if you insist."

Meanwhile, Lucy was having the worst time imaginable standing in her corset and under-skirt in her chamber, trying to get it off or at least loosen it a little. Unfortunately, all her tugging and squirming had only made it tighter and she was starting to find it a little hard to breathe.

There was a knock at her door. "Lucy, you in there?"

The voice was sort of familiar even if she couldn't place it. It didn't sound like Peter or Lord Pevensie or even Tumnus for that matter. Who could it be? She felt certain that if the oxygen to her brain wasn't getting so cut off, she would have known at once. Quickly, knowing there was nothing else for it, Lucy threw her dress back on and rushed towards the door, swinging it open.

It was Edmund. A good three inches more of him with a much deeper voice, but it was him all the same.

She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before the combination of lack of breakfast, tight corset, and extreme surprise took it's toll and she did something she had never done before in her life as far as she could remember, she fainted.

"Lucy?" Edmund gasped, lowering himself to her level, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She was completely out and didn't seem to be breathing.

Part of the bodice which hadn't been replaced properly after she'd taken it off, slipped a little revealing a stiff-looking thing covered in tightly drawn laces. Well of course she couldn't breathe with that thing on! Edmund was amazed that she would have been stupid enough to wear something like that in the first place. She was only thirteen for Aslan's sake!

Alright, so all he had to do was get it off and she should be fine. Simple, right? Not so simple, he couldn't get through the front of the dress to reach the laces. He could go get help but she might be dead by the time he got back-no, he couldn't risk that-he would have to figure it out for himself. The only idea he could come up with was to tear the front of the dress open and then work on getting the corset unlaced.

The thick fabric made a sharp ripping sound sort of like a dog's bay in cloth form when it was split apart.

Now he could see all of the laces clearly. There were two ways of doing this: One, he could slowly and carefully untie every one of them and hope it was done before his eighty-ninth birthday came around, or he could take a pocket knife and cut them off. Clearly, the second one was the best option, he drew out his pocket knife and cut the laces speedily.

Lucy's chest started going up and down again as she took a couple of deep breaths.

"Thanks be to the Lion!" He exclaimed happily, throwing his arms around her. "You're alright!"

Lucy had noticed tears in his eyes before he'd pulled her into the hug. "You're crying, what's wrong?"

Before he could answer, they heard a sharp gasp above them and Edmund hoped it wasn't someone else passing out.

Worse, it was Helen who had come back early from the investors meeting and she did not look at all pleased.

What's her problem? Edmund wondered before he realized exactly what her problem was. Her daughter's dress was split open and so was her corset and Edmund was holding her...oh, dear...

He quickly pulled away from Lucy. "It's not what it looks like!"

Helen did not seem at all convinced.

Lucy started crying.

Later, when Peter sought out Edmund at the sword shop to ask why Helen was so angry with him and got the whole story, he couldn't help bursting out laughing at the misunderstanding.

"It's not funny!" Edmund scowled, moving a pile of swords from one end of the shop to the other.

"Corset's not." Peter said, pronouncing 'corset' like the words, 'course it's'.

Edmund glared at him. "Is my foot going up Peter's bony butt if he says that word again? Corset is!"

"I'll try to talk to Helen." Peter said finally when he regained composure.

"Thanks." Edmund sighed, slipping a brass sword into a golden sheath.

**AN: Please remember to review!**


	23. A rose made of glass

_"_Are you really not allowed to speak to him at all now?" Marjorie asked Lucy in a low whisper as they sat together at one of the little white cloth covered tables in _The Lion's Den's_ tea room.

Lucy's expression hardened into furious pout. Not only had she suffered one of the most embarrassing moments of her life-nearly dieing from lack of air, having Edmund rip open her corset to save her, and her mother walking in right after it happened, but afterwards, she had been told by her mother that she was forbidden to have any association with a boy who behaved like that around young girls. Never mind the fact that he had just saved her life; no, that didn't matter one bit because he had done it _indecently!_

Helen didn't even believe that he _had_ saved her life to begin with. She insisted that she had not tied the corset tight enough for that and there was no way Lucy with her weak bony little fingers had been able to pull it any tighter. Edmund simply _must _have grabbed her and ripped her dress open for no good reason and Lucy was telling lies to defend him.

She hadn't believed Peter either when he'd tried to explain the situation. For some reason, he had always befriended the horrid younger scholarly swordsman and would believe just about anything he said. Of course that wouldn't be at all helpful in keeping him away from her daughter (She had tried-with no avail-to get Lord Pevensie to stop investing in Digory's swords and to forbid his son and daughter to speak to either him or his grandson, but he had refused).

"But he attacked my poor daughter!" Helen had protested angrily.

Lord Pevensie, rather used to her moods and demands by this point in their marriage, simply shook his head and in a firm but quiet tone he used when he meant to have the final word on a matter said, "I think you're being terribly rash, Helen. I wont intervene with how you raise your daughter-no, I see that look, don't say it, I _know _I barely did anything in raising my own children, but hear me out, mine are still going to speak to whomever they like, your daughter ought to have the same freedom or she will think it to be mere favoritism."

Lord Pevensie may have been convinced that the boy had really-as likely as not-done nothing wrong but Helen was adamant and strong-willed on the matter. No boy who was caught trying to be with a young thirteen year old girl like that was a decent friend for her daughter. She had never liked or trusted him to begin with, now she had the perfect excuse to continue doing so.

Lucy had decided she didn't care. She'd be just as much his friend now as before no matter what Helen said. She wasn't going to sit around crying any longer. If he said 'Hello' to her in the streets, she wasn't going to ignore him and keep walking nor was she going to avoid him when he came to visit Peter.

"No, but I'm going to talk to him anyway." Lucy told her.

Marjorie was a good person but she had been born overly submissive and couldn't quite understand Lucy's conviction in this matter. Helen would be furious; remembering the sort of guest she had been during her time at the inn, she didn't see her as the sort of person you wanted to get cross.

"Your mother wont like that, Lucy." She said, reaching over for the pink rose-bud tea pot. "More tea?"

"I know." Lucy said, nodding at the pot as Marjorie refilled her small, silver-rimmed tea-cup.

"If it helps any, I believe he was only trying to help." Marjorie told her with a reassuring, gentle smile.

"Thanks." Lucy smiled weakly, picking up her tea-cup and taking a sip of the piping-hot liquid inside.

"Do you still have to wear a corset?" Marjorie wanted to know.

"Technically I'm still supposed to but Susan helps me take it off every morning after mother makes me put it on so it's become a bit of a lost cause." Lucy explained, not without a pick of pleasure at having, for the time being at least, won one battle with her mother.

There was a ringing sound at the door and the woman who ran the inn rushed over to the table and asked Marjorie to answer it.

"I've got my hands full, the guest in room four just went into labor and I've got to send for the midwife at once." She explained hurriedly, thrusting a small tea-tray at one of the maids and ordering her to take it to room six.

Marjorie stood up and curtsied, careful to smooth out the front of her smock and straighten out her bonnet neatly before speaking. "Yes, Madam, I will go right away."

"That's a good girl." the woman said shortly before lifting her skirts and dashing off while barking at three maids carrying a stack of laundry. "Towels! Get them now!"

"It's probably just the maple dryad with our order of syrup for the month." Marjorie said causally, as Lucy stood up and followed her over to the front door.

Through the front of the glass, she was rather surprised to see a tired-looking Peter instead of the supposed dryad. Lucy moved in front of Marjorie and opened the door, feeling more than a little irritated.

"She sent you to make sure I wasn't with him, didn't she?" Lucy snapped. "Unbelievable."

Peter smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Lu."

"Hello, Master Peter." Marjorie greeted him formally.

He looked over at Marjorie as if noticing her presence at the door for the first time. "Oh, hi."

Lucy noticed her friend blush slightly before inviting him in and excusing herself into another room she simply _had_ to dust right away

"I haven't gotten a chance to talk to him since..." Lucy's voice trailed of and she folded her arms across her chest. "It's so unfair."

"Try having to listen to him whine about Helen not letting him come and see you, now _that's _unfair." Peter joked, poking her lightly on the arm in an attempt to make her feel better.

"He doesn't." Lucy grinned, actually feeling pretty sure that he did.

Peter let out a light chuckle and nodded. "Oh, yes he does."

"When can I see him?" Lucy asked, hoping Peter would take her down to the sword shop-Helen wouldn't have to find out.

Peter knew that quite a few ladies and probably Lucy's Aunt Alberta as well, would probably tell Helen if they saw him taking Lucy down towards Digory's home. "I don't know, I'm sorry."

Lucy sighed and sank back onto the soft plum-coloured cushions in the front antechamber's couch.

"We need to find your mother a hobby." Peter groaned, plopping down beside her.

"Tell me about it." Lucy agreed, turning her head on overly-ruffled pillow it rested on to face him.

Meanwhile, back at Lord Pevensie's manor, Susan stood holding a small cardboard box that had just arrived in the mail. It had dark rain-stains on one side and looked sort of weather beaten. What frightened her about it was that it had Telmarine postmarks and stamps on it. The only Telmarines she knew were Miraz and Prince Caspian. Supposing it was a threat of some sort from Miraz or else poisonous powder so he could finish the job he had failed at when she was a little girl?

Her fingers tingled and her cheeks burned under the watchful, equally frightened, eye of Tumnus who was standing a few feet away from her ready to pull the box out of her hands if need be. There was no return address in either of the corners, just the brown paper which Susan was slowly peeling back to reveal a small russet-coloured note card which said, "For the timid lady who speaks old Narnian: Another rose for your windowsill."

"What do you suppose that means?" Tumnus asked, reaching up to scratch the side of his forehead in confusion.

Susan knew perfectly well what it meant, remembering-she couldn't forget-her fear when she had seen Caspian walking the street near her window so long ago. But it did strike her as odd that _he _would remember it after over two years. Still, she couldn't help unwrapping the rest of the package to see what it might contain.

When she had finally pulled back all of the filmily layers, she saw what it was: A small glass rose. The stem was made of solid silver while the petals were shimmering glass with reflective golden rims that caught the light even more than the glass itself did.

"Tis a pretty trinket." Tumnus mused, breathing a sigh of relief as he took the object from Susan to examine for himself. "No sharp edges..."

"It's not from Miraz, Tumnus." Susan said, looking down at the note card again. "It's from his nephew."

Tumnus didn't know what to say to that. "I suppose that was very thoughtful of him then?"

"I wont keep it." Susan decided, taking the glass rose out of his hands and putting it back in the box. "We have to send it back."

"There's no return address." Tumnus reminded her as she gave the box back to him.

"Then just send it back to the Telmarine Castle." Susan ordered, looking away from Tumnus, out the window at the street below as if she expected to see someone standing there, looking up at her. "As long as it goes back to him-I can't keep it."

Tumnus nodded. "As you wish, Milady."

Two days later at the post-box though, Tumnus would find himself hesitant to obey and would place it in a back closet in the servant's chambers so he could think it over now and decide later.

**AN: Please review.**


	24. A well known song

**AN: This is the longest fanfic I've ever written. 24 chapters and counting! Wow! Anyways, I hope you like it. **

It was one of those rare, calm, almost-peaceful nights when nothing went wrong in the Pevensie household. Susan managed to sleep soundly without crying or having nightmares, Helen was no worse than usual and had already gone to bed herself-so you didn't have to worry about her strolling the hallways and corridors demanding to know why you were up and where you were going if you happened to meet her out there, and the only sound that could be heard was the howling of an old owl.

The only thing about these sort of nights that were very unpleasant for Peter, was that if he didn't fall asleep right away-and he very rarely did-he would start thinking and once he started thinking, he often found it very difficult to stop.

He would remember things he didn't want to think about; both recent and from years ago. Susan's face when he first found her in the canal was an especially persistent image that would not go away no matter how tightly he shut his eyes and tried to block it out. Then there were the other faces, too. Lucy when she first came to Narnia hungry and tired, before she knew their dark secret-back when she really was a 'Little Lucy'. The glance he'd caught from Miraz the day of the wedding-he couldn't even begin to fathom what that horrible man might have been thinking about. He couldn't wrap his mind around that kind of evil.

Finally, though it took a few hours, his eyelids closed on their own and sleep found him, decending like a dark veil falling from the celing until all was warm and dark and the restlessness was gone.

In that sort of a comfortable state, the last thing a person wants to hear is the click of an acorn hitting the window. Peter mumbled in his sleep and rolled over, ready to act as though he hadn't heard it at all. Then, another one. Next came a sort of annoyed grunt and the sound of someone climbing up the house's thick copper siding, using the long tall roof-gutter as a sort of railing so they wouldn't fall to their death.

Peter hadn't latched the door properly, so when the person outside finally reached the long broad sill, they simply pushed on the glass until the window flew open like a pair of french doors and, ducking so that they didn't hit their head, entered the room.

Still half-asleep, Peter opened his left eye a crack and saw a familar-faced, dark-haired, boy whom he, without the need to give it much thought, instantly registered as, 'only Edmund' and yawned heavily, eager to get back into his former state of a deep dreamless sleep. He quickly pulled his pillow to his chest and yanked the covers over his head, too tired to wonder why on earth Edmund would be in his house at that hour, much less have entered in such an unorthodox fashion.

Edmund hadn't seen Peter glance at him, the room was too dark and shadowy from the corner he stood in. Also, it hadn't been Peter's room he was aiming for to begin with.

He took a step closer to the direction the bed was in. "Lucy?"

Peter mumbled to himself, shoving away his pillow until it fell on the floor with a light, _ploop_. Peering up from the edge of the covers irritably, he moaned, "Wrong room, Ed."

Edmund shrugged his shoulders and nodded apologetically. "Sorry, Pete, my mistake. Good-night." He waltzed calmly over to the door so he could walk out into the hallway.

Suddenly the irony and full impact of the fact that Edmund had just broken into his house and was now planning to wander around it in the middle of the night looking for Lucy, hit Peter and he jumped out of the bed.

"Hey, wait a second." Peter demanded, marching over to where Edmund stood with his hand on the doorknob. "What _are _you doing here?"

"What?" Edmund's face grew that pretend-serious people often use when trying not to laugh. "I'm not welcome in your home anymore? Real nice, Peter, real nice."

Before Peter could answer him, Edmund's hand flew off the door knob because someone was twisting it from the other side. He and Peter both jumped back as it swung open.

Susan stood there; she didn't notice Edmund at first. "Peter, I just had the strangest dream that some idiot was trying to sneak into our house by clinging to the sidings and-" She noticed Edmund and let out a sight yelp before rolling her eyes and adding, "Oh. Never mind."

"So, idiot," Peter said in a half-joking sort of way, turning to face Edmund again. "why are you here?"

"I came to see Lucy." Edmund shrugged as though it was a perfectly reasonable excuse.

Peter rubbed his forehead, thinking about how badly he wanted to bang it against the wall really hard just one time. "At this hour? Have you lost your marbles?"

"Well it isn't as if I could come calling in the middle of the afternoon." Edmund pointed out.

Peter let out another deep groan. "Alright, alright, just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I'm going back to bed." Susan yawned, leaving the room.

"Trust me." Edmund said.

Peter smiled. "I do trust you, that's why I'm not going to stop you."

"Thanks." Edmund grinned at him.

"But if my father or else Helen sees you, this conversation never took place." He warned him.

"Fine." Edmund agreed, walking out into the hallway, headed straight for Lucy's chamber.

As it turned out, Lucy wasn't not asleep or even in her bed clothes yet even though it was very late at night. She had been very tired and so had taken longer about going to bed than she other-wise might have. Too worn from lessons to move away from her reading chair and change into her night-dress, she had sat there for nearly a half hour longer than she'd intended before dragging herself up. Then she had had an urge to sit on the window-seat and open up the curtains in her room because the night was very clear and she wanted to see the stars and the beautiful, familar constellations she had come to know and love since she had first come to Narnia at only nine years old. Eventually, she'd rested her head on the palms of her hands and, looking out at those bright sapphire-like stars, had fallen asleep there.

There was a light rap at her door and she woke with a start, nearly falling off of the seat as got up to answer it. Pulling the door open, Lucy blinked in surprise, certain that the murky moonlight from the window reflected off of her mirror was playing tricks on her eyes. Edmund stood there, smiling at her.

"Hello."

"Hi." Lucy whispered, feeling strangely shy all of a sudden.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come for a walk with me." He said as if it wasn't completely insane of him to just show up in the middle of the night at her doorway like this.

"A walk?" Lucy asked, dumbstruck. "Where?"

"Just around the manor, I suppose it's big enough." Edmund told her reassuringly.

Of course she wanted to but she had her concerns about it all the same. "I don't know...what if my mother sees us?"

Edmund's smile widened just a little at the corners of his mouth. "I suppose it's big enough."

Lucy felt a happy smirk form on her own face as she placed her hand into his, which she hadn't realized up until that moment was out-stretched towards her.

They walked down several long corridors and vestibules all of which were very far away from any of Helen's chambers and sitting rooms so the chance of either of them getting caught was rather unlikely. After a while they came to a room with a large red carpet and soft pale-coloured walls-the kind with bookshelves built into them. Most of these books were the sort that were filled with notes, not words. The center of the room was empty with the exception of the piano which stood in the left corner; its glossy wood glimmering where the sliver of moonlight from the velvet curtain gap fell in.

Edmund sat down on the piano bench and in one smooth, natural motion slid the smooth wooden cover off of the keys and started to play a pretty tune that Lucy had never heard before but felt as if she had known all her life.

She watched his fingers move slowly and steadily without missing a note and shook her head in astonishment. "I didn't know you played the piano, Edmund."

Edmund stopped playing and looked up at her. "I don't."

She crinkled her brow. "But you-"

"I only know one song." He explained.

"Where did you learn it?" Lucy asked curiously, reaching for the curtains and pulling them open all the way.

"I've always known it." Edmund said, looking sort of sad. "My grandfather says it's because my mother was practicing it when she was pregnant with me."

Lucy took a step towards him. Even though she knew he lived alone with Digory, it had never occurred to her to wonder why. "What happened to your parents?"

Edmund shook his head and looked away. "They died of a plague that came through Narnia when I was a baby. My grandmother, too. Grandfather doesn't like to talk about it-it's too painful for him so I don't ask, I just wait for him to bring it up sometimes."

"I'm sorry." Lucy said softly.

"It's alright." Edmund told her, lightly running his fingers along the keys while he spoke. "I'm sorry about what happened to them but I've had a good childhood, I never felt like I missed out on much of anything. I mean, it wasn't always easy but..."

"...It was alright because in the end the good things counted for more than the bad things?" Lucy finished for him.

Edmund smiled at her. "Yeah."

Lucy leaned closer to the piano. "What's the name of that song you were playing?"

"It's called, 'The Lion and the apple tree'." Edmund explained, scooting over on the piano bench so she could sit down beside him. "According to legend, it was written by King Frank himself, the first king of Narnia, in imitation of the song Aslan used when he called Narnia into existence."

"It's beautiful." Lucy said, sitting down beside him.

Edmund started playing it again, slower this time so she could catch the notes easier and hum along.

When he finished, he turned to Lucy. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right? What happened with the corset...I was only trying to help..."

Lucy reached over and placed her hand over his. "I know."

His hand slid around her's and their fingers intertwined. "Alright then, as long as you know."

**AN: Please review and tell me what you thought of the 24th chapter!**


	25. Love comes suddenly

With the passing of time, Helen proved unable to keep Edmund and Lucy apart. She tried, one has to give her full points for effort if nothing else, but in the end, it was all for naught. She could forbid Lucy to see him but she couldn't forbid Peter from inviting him over during tea and from the only available seat happening to be right beside-or at times, across from-Lucy. She didn't give up though, if she knew he was coming over to the house, she made sure to send Lucy away on an errand that she knew would take most of the morning or afternoon. But just as they had found a way to get Lucy out of wearing corsets, they also found a way for her to spend time with Edmund.

It didn't help that most of Narnia was rather fond of him now, in spite of Helen's attempts to drag his name in the mud so to speak, because he had officially been declared a knight having passed all of his courses.

Of course the first person he ran to tell was Lucy whom he found in one of the back gardens of Lord Pevensie's manor, taking her lessons outside with Tumnus because the weather was too fine to waste away in his dark study.

"No, that is not the correct sum." Tumnus sighed, taking the book out of Lucy's hands and looking at the problem for himself. "Close though." He read the problem over again and then turned back to her. "How did you come up with that answer?"

"Well I-" Lucy started before she saw Edmund racing towards her holding a notice with an official Cair Paravel stamp on it. She jumped up and dashed over a small soil-path to where he was standing out of breath, panting.

"I did it!" Edmund blurted out excitedly, thrusting the paper in her direction. "I was worried because it came later than it was supposed to but it turns out I passed. I'm going to be a knight and-" He paused for a moment and inhaled deeply, realizing suddenly that he was hyperventilating and his words were all running together in a rather awful-sounding slur. "Breathe, Edmund, breathe..." He had to remind himself.

Lucy read the notice and beamed at him. She known he would make it but he'd been so withdrawn and worried lately that it had rubbed off on her, making her feel almost as tense and anxious as he had. Now, she felt his relief and happiness just a strongly as he did, if not more so.

She let out an excited squeal and threw herself into his open arms so quickly that they fell over and squashed a bed of orange flowers.

Tumnus shook his head. "The gardeners are not going to like that."

"Lucy," Edmund gasped, trying to shake a couple of orange petals off of the shoulder of his tunic.

"Yes?"

"Get off me." The way they had landed, he couldn't sit up until she moved.

Lucy let go of him so that her knees slid into the moist black soil. Her stockings and the ends of her dress were probably ruined now but she didn't care, she didn't even notice that they felt damp now, she was still too excited.

"Sorry, I'm just really happy for you." Lucy apologized as he helped her to her feet.

"I can tell." He chuckled, brushing a layer of dirt off his tights

Tumnus smiled at them, choosing for the moment to ignore the fact that Lucy hadn't finished her lessons for the day yet.

"So have you told Peter yet?" Lucy asked him.

Edmund shook his head. "I wanted to tell you first."

Lucy slapped him on the arm. "Ed!"

"What was that for?" Edmund exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

"You've been training with him for years, you should have told _him _first." Lucy spoke sternly but she was smiling when she said it.

"Oh, he can wait." Edmund rolled his eyes.

"When are you going to be knighted?" Lucy wanted to know.

"Well, that's the thing." Edmund said, rubbing the back of his neck while he spoke. "The official ceremony isn't for another year but technically I'm already a knight, like all of the duties and stuff."

"What kind of duties?" Lucy asked.

"Well you know if there was a war or something..." Edmund's voice trailed off as he watched Lucy's face fall, she looked completely devastated. "Hey, look here, it's alright." He reached out and grabbed her hands. "I said _if _there was one-there isn't. There's nothing to worry about."

"But if there was one, they would make you go?" Lucy said softly, suddenly not liking the idea of Edmund being a knight as much as she had a few minutes ago.

"Well...not make me...I'd just have to go..." Edmund stammered, trying to explain.

"What about Peter?" Lucy realized, starting to feel a little sick to her stomach at the thought of the two boys she cared the most about in the world having to fight in a war-hypothetical or not. "Would he...?"

"Well technically, yes." Edmund said honestly. "But like I said, there isn't a war going on now anyway."

"I know it's just..." Lucy sighed, feeling his hands tighten gently around her own. "I don't know what I'd do if-"

"Lucy Pevensie!" An angry voice snapped.

Edmund quickly let go of Lucy's hands when he saw Helen coming towards them looking livid.

Lucy cringed. Hardly anyone called her, 'Lucy Pevensie' even though it was her name now according to her mother and she knew that tone. It didn't mean anything good, that was for sure.

"You are supposed to be having your lessons." Helen glared at Tumnus. "I trust you have a very good reason why you were letting her just stand around doing nothing when she was supposed to be learning something useful?"

Tumnus rose up slowly on his goat-feet and gulped. "Well, Lady Helen-you see..."

"I don't want to hear it." Helen practically spat at him. "Just do your job or I will ask my husband to dismiss you and the only pupils you'll have will be the gutter children."

Tumnus wanted to argue with her but as she was the wife of Lord Pevensie, the master of the house, and he was only a servant, such an action would have been considered an offence and in poor taste. As he was a very polite faun, he simply lowered his head respectfully.

"And you!" Helen hissed, turned to Edmund now. "What are you doing here?"

Lucy held up the notice. "He's a knight now, mum."

"A _knight_..." Helen wrinkled her nose and her lips turned up into a sneer. "It's pathetic that the nobility couldn't see straight through you." She pulled the notice out of Lucy's hands and shoved it back at Edmund.

"Sort of like how my grandfather and I saw through you when you first came?" Edmund said in a low but distinctive tone, raising an eyebrow at her challengingly. "We knew from the start what you were." He looked away from her and glanced to his side at Lucy before glaring back at Helen and looking her dead in the eyes. "You forget so quickly that we were willing to put all that aside and help you."

"We didn't need you." Helen said in a sharp, dangerous-sounding voice. "We would have made it on our own."

"Oh, really?" Edmund said, unwilling to back down. "And I take it your daughter is of marriageable age now?" He paused for a moment before adding, "No, you didn't seem desperate at all, I'm sure you would have made it."

Lucy stood gaping at him in disbelief. She had almost forgotten her mother's words from that first day when they'd moved in with the scholarly swordsmen but now they returned to her and buzzed in her ears. Her mother would have said _anything_, they had been in dire straights. How could she pretend otherwise?

Helen's face went red and without stopping to think, she reached out and slapped Edmund hard across the face.

Lucy gasped, feeling hot tears as they sprung up into her eyes.

Edmund didn't say anything. He didn't break eye-contact with Helen even after the slap and he didn't even so much as flinch. His hands stayed by his sides without even a suggestion of reaching up to rub his flaming cheek. In the calmest voice he could manage, he bid Lucy goodbye, saying nothing at all to the woman who had just smacked him.

"Ed-" Lucy started, taking a step forward before her mother grabbed onto her left shoulder, holding her back.

"I told you before and I'll tell you again," Helen hissed, her well-filed nail beds making deep imprints in Lucy's sleeve. "stay away from him, he's does nothing but cause trouble."

"No, Mum." Lucy whispered, choking back a sob which was had come in the form of a large lump in the center of her throat. "You're capable of doing that all by yourself."

The next morning as Susan helped her out of her corset which Helen had tied in the smallest of knots that day out of pure spite, Lucy seemed distant and broken and not at all like her normal chipper self. If Susan had been the one with the teary eyes and the monosyllabic answers, it wouldn't have been so strange because that was her usual manner of behavior. In Lucy though, it was plenty cause for concern.

"Lu, what's the matter?" She asked gently, as she finally got a hold on the final knot and pulled the lace out through it. In truth, although she didn't show as much, Susan had grown to care for her little stepsister just as much as Peter did if not more so. "Can't you tell me?"

"I don't feel well." Lucy whispered, wiping tears that even she couldn't explain away.

"Why?" Susan asked as she lifted Lucy's sleeves back up so she could slip her arms through them now that the corset was off. "What doesn't feel right?"

"Everything." Lucy told her tearfully, buttoning up the front of the dress. "I feel horrible inside."

Understanding what it was like to 'feel horrible inside' Susan placed an arm around her shoulders and led her over to a small couch where they could sit together.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Lucy blinked up at her in confusion. "You don't like to talk about anything." Susan was the most quiet, withdrawn person she knew.

"I didn't say _I_ would talk." Susan reminded her pointedly. "I asked if _you _wanted to talk."

"You want to listen?" Lucy asked, feeling more than a little confused.

Susan nodded.

It took a half hour but Lucy told her stepsister everything that had been going wrong in her life as of late. Most of it wasn't really new to Susan who had seen a good deal of it for herself, including what had happened in the garden the day before (She had been looking out the window but they hadn't seen her), but she listened quietly without interrupting as if learning all of this for the first time.

"I don't know what to do." Lucy whispered. "I don't even know why I feel as upset as I do right now."

"I think I know what's wrong." Susan said quietly.

Lucy looked at her curiously. "What?"

Susan gave her a weak smile. "You might not like the answer."

"What answer?" Lucy crinkled her forehead. "What are you talking about, Susan?"

"You know I'm the last person to say these sort of things but..." Susan started, pausing for a moment at Lucy's blank facial expression before going on. "...I think you're falling in love with him, Lucy."

"What?" Lucy exclaimed in disbelief, pulling away from Susan and jumping off of the couch.

Susan shrugged her shoulders. "I warned you."

"But why would you think...?"

"Because of how you act around him and how upset you are now...I mean...what else could it be?"

Lucy shook her head. She was only thirteen. There was no way she was falling in love with anyone, she had to be years away from that sort of thing. And there was no way Ed-but what if Susan was right?

"I don't feel that way about him-I don't think." Lucy felt her cheeks go red the way they often did when she told one of her rare lies. "He's a good friend but-" she racked her brain to think of something negative she felt towards him. It took a few moments but she finally came up with something. "He made me cry the other day, you know."

Susan looked sympathetic. "That's terrible. What did he do?"

"He left!" Lucy instantly brought her hand to her mouth, realizing what she'd just said. "Oh no."

"I stand corrected." Susan told her, standing up and walking out of the chamber. "You aren't falling in love with him, you're already in it."

Lucy stood in the center of the room, unsure of what to do with herself because she knew that Susan was right.

**AN: Please review!**


	26. Quarantine and illness

The winter following Lucy's fourteenth birthday was a hard one in Narnia. In the fall, large fields responsible for growing a large amount of the Narnians' food was struck by a swarm of locusts that had never migrated to those parts before. Needless to say, they ate up most of the wheat and any other crops they could get near. Because much of the necessary foods had to be imported from small untouched fields or even from other near-by places such as Archenland and Ettinsmoor, which eventually also fell on hard times. Telmar, which was prospering while Narnia began to dwindle, provided food and water at a very low cost. Although some called this an act of kindness, others, those more discerning, realized that the Telmarines would want something from them in return sooner or later.

Beggars on the streets of Narnia dropped like flies; woman, children, elderly persons, all of them seemingly at once. If they didn't have a home that year, they died. Snow felt thicker and colder than it had in over two decades past. Illnesses and plaques that hadn't been seen in any part of Narnia or Archenland for many years arrived. If they didn't die from the cold, they caught the illness and-while they laid in the cobblestone streets which would become their graves-wished the cold had gotten them first.

Lucy could never look outside a window of Lord Pevensie's house, watching lifeless bodies being carried away to 'homeless graves' by the large solemn centaurs so that they didn't rot in the roads and make the area stink, without tears streaming down her face. She couldn't help but think that had she still been a beggar, if no one had ever taken her and her mother in, that would have been them. It would have been Susan and Peter alone watching the two dead Ettinsmoor refugees with no names of value being carried away.

Although Lord Pevensie was rich enough so that none of them went hungry or wanted for milk or butter, which even some of their well-off neighbors no longer had much of, the buying and investing stopped as did most visiting with friends or going places. The illnesses and plaques were serious things and several roads, alleyways, and even a few main streets were quarantined to avoid the spread of them.

Still, there was horrible news of slightly less extreme-but dangerous nevertheless-cases of it breaking out among the servants of some of the houses and occasionally spreading it to the family of the master of which ever house the break out occurred in. In turn, the people grew more withdrawn from their daily activities in the belief-or at least the hope-that their lock downs would last only until the winter ended.

One morning when Peter came into the dinning hall for breakfast, Lucy could tell something wasn't quite right. He was paler than usual (expect for his cheeks which appeared flushed), wore a dazed expression on his face, and his unfocused eyes looked glassy.

"Master Peter, are you alright?" Tumnus asked worriedly as he set a basket of soft sour-dough rolls down in the middle of the table next to the crystal butter tray.

Peter turned and looked hard at him for a moment as if trying to figure out who the goaty fellow speaking to him was.

"Master Peter?" Tumnus repeated anxiously.

He blinked rapidly. "I'm sorry, I can't remember your name."

Susan stood up from her place at the table and walked over to him. They had known Tumnus since they were babies; if Peter had to ask him what his name was, something was seriously wrong.

"It's me, Tumnus." The faun told him when after three more rounds of repetitive blinking, Peter still didn't seem to know who he was.

Peter smiled weakly and nodded. "Tumnus...of course..." He shook his head. "That's right, I knew that." His words were starting to run together and he slurred on some of his letters. Also, he couldn't seem to keep straight what language he was speaking. He kept going from Modern Narnian to English to old Narnian to Modern Narnian again.

What quickly became apparent was that he was running a high fever from which he was suffering delirium. He said something inaudible; followed by, in an almost lucid voice if just for that one moment, "Susan, put out your arms."

Dizzy and running a high temperature, his body no longer contained the strength he would need in order to keep standing up. He fell backwards and Susan caught him.

Lord Pevensie looked over at his wife. "Helen, send for the doctor." to Tumnus, "Get him upstairs."

"With all of the streets that are quarantined, it'll take any doctor no matter which direction he's coming from-" Helen protested.

"Just do it." Lord Pevensie said shortly.

"And how do you expect me to 'just do it', pray tell?" Helen huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "There's a pile of snow the size of an ogre outside our front door-the side ones all lead to streets that carry the illnesses so don't tell me to use them-and there's little to no transportation available."

"Honestly!" Lord Pevensie exclaimed through clenched teeth. "You would think that a woman smart enough to work her way from being a beggar on the streets to being nobility would have worked out an emergency plan!"

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Helen fumed, worked up from the tension of the moment and from a slight case of cabin fever. "What do you want me to do? Pull a doctor out of thin air?"

"Don't yell at me!" Lord Pevensie snapped.

"If anyone's yelling, it's you!" Helen insisted angrily.

While they argued back and forth, Susan, Lucy, and Tumnus carried a half-unconscious Peter upstairs to his bed chamber. He opened his eyes only once after a rather hard cough jerked through his whole body shaking him awake but only for a mere half-second.

When they laid him down, Lucy began to cry because she could see that his breathing had become more labored. Tumnus's eyes shone with tears, too. He was afraid that when and if a doctor arrived, it might be too late. Though Susan wore a tight, pained expression on her face, she never lost her head even for a moment.

The calmest of the three, she told Tumnus to go down to the servants' chambers downstairs and fetch some herbs and medicine bottles from the hall wooden cabinet. She asked Lucy to first go over to Peter's book shelves and see if she could find any of the books on medicine that he studied for his lessons and then to please get three basins-one with hot water, one with cold water, and one empty.

Lucy found the books and brought them over to Susan who placed them by the bedside table and, looking anxiously down at Peter who was wheezing terribly by this point, told her to be quick about getting the basins.

"Oh and bring some clean white cloths back with you, too." She added.

She followed Susan's instructions to the letter and brought her the three basins and the cloths.

"How do you know what you're doing?" Lucy asked as she watched her dunk one of the cloths into the cool water basin and then wring it out.

"Peter used to take of me when I was sick remember?" Susan said, folding the cloth into a neat rectangle and placing it on Peter's forehead. "After I was kidnapped he had to nurse me back to health, I think that's why he was always so interested in medicine."

Tumnus returned with the herbs and medicine she had asked for.

Peter let out a raspy groan.

Susan flipped quickly through some of Peter's notes in one of the books she'd placed aside until she found what she was looking for. "Tumnus, the stuff in the black bottle." She stretched out her hand and he placed it in her palm. Her fingers struggled for a minute working the stopper until it popped open with a slight phizzing sound. "This should induce vomiting."

"Why would we want to do that?" Tumnus asked, clearly confused.

"He's not breathing right because he has some sort of built up in his chest, the cloth should help keep the fever down but if he doesn't vomit at least once-it wont be of much use." Susan explained.

In spite of her fear, Lucy couldn't help gawking at her stepsister in complete awe. She had occasionally seen her take slight charge over smaller matters during the rare moments when she felt inclined to it, but she had never seen her be so...well, strong. Susan had always struck her as a frightened victim, it had never entered her head to think that she could step up and be so _brave_. It was true that she had stood up to Helen but that was nothing compared to this. She was clearly worried about her brother but she didn't panic. Lucy had to admit that if she was in Susan's place as the older sister and it seemed that no doctor was able to come, she would have broken down completely and sobbed.

"Tumnus hold his mouth open." Susan said shortly, not because she was cross but because she was focused. "Lucy, you might want to leave the room, I don't think you'll want to see this."

If she was a very little bit younger, she would have listened to her and left but now that she was fourteen, Lucy thought it would be a very babyish thing for her to do and insisted on staying.

There was a horrible sound somewhere between a cough and a gasp that came out of Peter's throat. Susan held the empty basin under him-sliding the cool cloth off of his forehead so it didn't fall in-and he coughed again, vomiting into it.

It smelled so bad that Tumnus and Lucy's noses wrinkled involuntarily as they peered over at Peter who's breathing improved. He leaned back on the pillows and looked a little more rested now in spite of his crimson-coloured face. Susan dunked the cool cloth into the water again, wrung it out, and replaced it on his forehead.

Lucy caught a glimpse of the vomit in the basin before Tumnus took it away. It had bright red chunks in it that she was quite certain was not simply chilli reprocessed.

That night, Lucy was surprised to find Susan cleaning out her wardrobe and tossing any remotely pretty clothing over to a pile on the far side of the chamber.

"I've made a decision, Lucy." Susan told her, looking somber but also strangely happy in a quiet, grave, sort of way. "I've decided that I am not going to be the lady of the house anymore."

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked, crinkling her forehead in confusion. Susan _had _to be the lady of the house; she was Lord Pevensie's only blood-related daughter.

"I got to thinking..." Susan explained, tossing another rose-coloured dress into the pile. "Peter's really ill, Lucy. He'll need someone to take care of him the way he took care of me before. So I will. From now on, I am not Lady Susan of the Pevensie household but Susan the nursemaid."

"But why are you getting rid of all of these dresses?" Lucy still didn't get it.

"I'm not getting rid of them, Lu." Susan told her. "I'm giving them to you; you're much taller now than when you first came, they'll fit you-I think."

"But why?" Lucy asked again.

"Nursemaids don't need pretty clothes." Susan said in a final tone which Lucy understood meant she was thoroughly convinced that nursemaids _never _wore anything even remotely pretty. "I have plenty of nice, clean, neat, plain black frocks to wear and I can pull my hair back in black ribbon so that it doesn't get in my way."

"But Susan, he's going to get better and then you wont need to be a nursemaid anymore, right?" Lucy said in a rather breathless tone.

Susan's eyes filled with tears for the first time that day. "Please don't ask me that, not now."

**AN: Please review!**


	27. A doctor's visit and a nightmare

**AN: Sorry it took me a couple of days to update. This is the first chance I got, honest. **

It was nearly two days later when a doctor was finally able to arrive. He was a faun who looked very much like Tumnus only older and grayer with more of a monotone voice. Also, he wore a pair of brass-rimmed spectacles which rested on the bridge of his nose in the shape of an upside-down U. He came in carrying a large brown carpet bag in one hand and a snow-covered umbrella-which Helen made him shake out on the outside steps before he could come indoors-in the other.

"Oh by the Lion's mane, Helen!" Lord Pevensie snapped, shooting the flustered looking doctor an apologetic look. "This isn't the time for you to be concerned about a little bit of snow getting on the floor."

"How do I know it doesn't contain something carrying that awful illness? Bringing more sickness germs in here wont-" She started before Lord Pevensie cut her off.

"It's from the_ sky_." He said dryly. "I highly doubt the doctor dragged it along the yellow snow in the alleyway on his way here."

Tumnus walked by carrying a basin of hot water.

"Tumnus, come here." Helen ordered in a rather harsh-and completely uncalled for-manner.

"I cannot, Lady Helen." Tumnus answered with a respectful bow of his head. "I must bring the hot water up to Peter's chamber."

"Then show the doctor where it is." Helen said curtly.

Tumnus nodded at the doctor. "This way." He motioned at a set of stone stairs leading to the second floor.

After examining Peter, the doctor shook his head and turned to Lord Pevensie with a somber expression on his face. "I pray you wont take offence on account of my asking this, Lord Pevensie, but tell me, did the boy-" He glanced down at Peter who was asleep now, tired out from having to say 'ah' at least seven times in a row. "Did he-by any chance-have any..." He paused for a moment to consider his words carefully before speaking his thought out loud. "How can I put this?"

Helen tapped her foot on the hardwood floor in Peter's chamber impatiently.

"Did he have any great mental strain put on him prior to falling ill?" He said finally, taking off his spectacles, and squinting hard at the left lens trying to locate a smudge that had been blocking his view.

Lord Pevensie had never felt so guilt-ridden in his life. Mental strain? Would having to raise his own sister for most of his life count? He hated himself at that moment for not getting her married off sooner or perhaps sending her away to a boarding school. Perhaps having Peter look after her all the time was a bit much for him, but he had always shouldered is so well that...Lord Pevensie's thoughts trailed off; he couldn't send Susan away now. Not with the illnesses going around the streets, Peter being so ill and needing her to look after him, and several of his investors dropping like flies. It was too late now.

Helen frowned at the doctor. "Mental strain?" She wrinkled her nose upwards irritably as if she had smelled a bad odor. "Of course not!"

The doctor nodded, giving the dirty lens on his spectacles a good wipe with his handkerchief.

At that moment, Susan walked into the chamber carrying a tray of thin-broth soup (One of the few kinds of foods Peter could keep from vomiting up ten minutes after taking it in). Seeing everyone hovering above Peter's bed, her expression grew harder and she glared at Helen-having heard what she'd just said.

"Don't believe her." Susan told the doctor in a pretty prose that sounded very ancient even for Old Narnian, placing the tray on Peter's bedside table. "He's always been under a lot of stress since he was a child."

The old faun's tired eyes lit up with amazement when he heard Susan's voice. When she had first entered the room, he had thought her to be a very ordinary sort of nursemaid who just happens to be remarkably beautiful in spite of her station (Which he only realized when he had replaced the spectacles on his face). But she gave herself away when she spoke. No low-class woman of her age would have been able to speak with such a thick old Narnian accent nor would her words have been able to flow as they did from Susan's mouth-rolling out and dropping into the air of the room like small jewels until Lady Helen's furious gaze shot out gravity and forced them to the ground where they had to fall with strong _clink_s in the utter silence that came over the room during her little speech.

Helen didn't know exactly word for word what Susan was saying but she could tell from the look on her stepdaughter's face that it wasn't something that backed up what she had just told the doctor. What bad things was that horrible little wench saying about her now? She probably only hovered and fretted over Peter so much because she wanted to get his share of the inheritance when he died. Helen was quite of the mind that the spoiled, dour, unpleasant girlchild should get nothing at all. If anything, Peter's inheritance should go back to his father after he died, not to his pampered sister.

"I beg your pardon maid..." The doctor paused realizing that he didn't know her name.

"Susan." Susan told him, taking a seat in the little armless wooden chair that was located at Peter's bedside and smoothing out a ruffled spot in the lap of her plain black frock.

"Maid Susan, would you care to explain what you mean?" The doctor inquired kindly.

"Simply what I said." Susan told him with a shrug of her shoulders. "He's been under stress since he was a young boy."

"Hush, Susan." Helen cut in with a sort of nervous-laugh. "You needn't exaggerate as you do. Goodness forbid the poor doctor take you seriously."

"I don't quite understand..." The doctor said, a crinkle in his forehead forming so deeply that it seemed to reach almost all the way up through his curly brown hair to his little goat-horns.

"The boy's had a lot of..." Helen paused, considering her words as if taking a step onto thin ice that might crack under the weight of one misplaced noun or verb. "Responsibilities..." There, that sounded good and respectable-no bad names on the family in that word. All boys of Peter's age-or at least most of them-had responsibilities, no doctor could blame a parent (or stepparent) for something as honest and simple and ordinary as that. "But nothing he couldn't handle."

Susan clenched her jaw and scooted her chair closer to Peter's bed. Helen was nothing but a nasty liar desperate to save her own skin. Such behavior was bad enough when things were normal but when her own stepson was so terribly sick...how could she lie with such calmness? Didn't she fear wrath? Susan had never had particularly strong belief in the great Lion Aslan who supposedly ruled over all of Narnia and had come secretly and knighted Peter but she wasn't exactly a heathen either and wondered how Helen-who claimed Narnian citizenship-could say such things.

"I see..." The doctor said in a rather dry tone which suggested a slight-or perhaps not so slight-dislike of Helen.

"The girl merely suffers from arrested development among other things." Helen invented quickly, daring to place a hand on Susan's left shoulder in pretend-sentiment. "She's dramatic and does an awful lot of play acting. She's not even really a maid, she is my husband's child from his first wife. She likes to pretend things."

"Well, Lady Helen." The doctor said shortly, watching Susan wince at Helen's touch and brush her hand away, moving closer still to her brother's bedside as if for comfort and protection. "I think that whatever _responsibilities_ young Master Peter had took rather a nasty toil on his immune system." He glanced over at Susan again. "Tell me, what have you been doing to care for him since he fell ill?"

Putting aside her natural fear of persons she didn't know, Susan explained about Peter's medical books and how he had once nursed her back to health and that she remembered pretty well what he had done to care for her and had tried to do the same for him.

"Lord Pevensie, I don't know what's going on in this household-it is none of my business in the least, but I will say this, that young lady-" He smiled over at Susan. "Be she your daughter or your servant, is nothing short of a hero. If she hadn't taken it upon herself to look after him, he would have been dead long before I could have come."

"That's all well and good, doctor, but we are paying you by the hour and you haven't told us what's wrong with him." Helen huffed irritably.

"He has in fact caught a bad cause of the illnesses going around on the street-his immune system wasn't strong enough to fight it-and I regret to inform this family that while I don't think death is immanent in his case, the odds of him ever fully recovering his health are slim. He'll be likely to carry the sickness he's contracted long after the epidemic is over and will need constant care."

"That's it?" Helen's brows sank deeply into her forehead. "We know we have the bloody illness in the house, we wanted you to tell us what to do about it!"

"There's nothing you can do except what your nursemaid here has already done for him. She must keep it up. That's is all the advice I can offer." The doctor answered gravely.

"In that case you may take leave of my house at once." Helen said coldly.

"Good day, then." He responded diplomatically. He nodded at Susan. "Keep up the good work."

Gently reaching through the covers to hold her brother's hand, Susan looked up at the doctor's retreating back and whispered a polite goodbye in old Narnian. Part of her wanted to yell at Helen now that the doctor was gone but she didn't want to wake Peter who for the first since he'd lost the strength to stand, was sleeping almost peacefully.

Lord Pevensie looked at his wife as if seeing her for the first time, shook his head in a disappointed fashion, and walked out of the room without a word to anyone.

That night, Lucy felt shivers running up and down her spine as if being frozen from the inside out and spent most of the night in a fitful state of half-rest until full sleep reached her. When it did, it did not come softly like a gentle glove of darkness sliding over her face, but rather as a hit to the back of the head-a bomb blasting her into the subconscious.

She dreamed of the Lion again. Once, when she was only eleven and had first moved in with the Pevensies she had dreamed of a golden Lion she knew now to be the same Aslan who'd knighted her stepbrother after he had hurt his leg from the serious wolf-bite, looking down at their manor from a great green hill top shaking his beautiful head at them sadly.

Now she dreamed it again. Only this time, the manor faded away and she could see the other side of the hill which Aslan was also looking down at sadly. It was a battle field. She saw Peter fighting a solider in Telmarine armor. Suddenly he stopped, dropped his sword, and fell to the ground in a fit of a coughing. The solider he had been fighting hit him hard with his own sword, wounding him severely. Then, he raised his sword again to give the final killing blow. Before Lucy could scream out his name in a panic, she saw another knight-a Narnian one-with his back turned in her direction knock down the Telmarine and pull Peter up onto his shoulders to carry him to safety. An arrow flew out of the crossbow of a Telmarine archer and it struck the knight carrying Peter right in the side. The knight fell to his knees, unable to clutch his side in pain. Suddenly, Lucy was much closer to him and he could see her, he turned his face in her direction and she let out the scream that had been held up in her throat up until that moment. She knew him-she knew that face. The hurt knight carrying Peter was none other than Edmund.

Her dream-screams turned real and she shot up in bed still crying out. Then they lessened and became sobs.

Unable to control her shaking shoulders and the rivers flowing down her cheeks, Lucy thrust her face into her hands and continued to weep.

Then there was a knock at her chamber door and it creaked open slightly. "Lady Lucy?"

Lucy climbed out of bed and tied her dressing gown around herself as she walked over to the figure in the doorway. It was Tumnus. He hadn't been able to sleep and had been sorting through some old books to pass the time. He had heard Lucy's crying as he passed by the door with an armful of ancient tomes and wanted to see if she was alright.

He placed the books down on the velvet-cushioned chair to the right of the chamber and walked over to her.

Still sobbing, Lucy threw her arms around his middle, clinging to him tightly like a small frightened child clings to a parent after being lost alone in a market place for a few minutes.

Tumnus gently placed a hand on her hair. "Shh...it's alright..."

His caring, concerned voice only made her feel more afraid than ever and in the darkness of the chamber, she carried on weeping all over the startled faun's chest until she had no more tears left in her and all was pure silence again.

**AN: So whatja think? Tell me! Please review!**


	28. As the winter carries on

**AN: Okay, so I know a lot of you are wondering when the story is going to have more Edmund/Lucy in it. I promise, it's coming-and soon. Just in this chapter...not so much. This one is more about Susan although Lucy is of course in it as well. Also, I would like to remind you that this fic is rated T and not K+ for a reason (There's implied drinking to the point of being drunk and mild child abuse implied in this, too) **

The winter days continued to pass so slowly that Lucy nearly began to wonder if it was ever going to end at all and how it was that she could remember the days when the ground wasn't piled high with icy white frost and dead homeless persons (Some of which, in spite of the communities' best efforts, had been buried in the snow). Was there ever really a time when friends could come to visit? When the earth was actually green and flowers bloomed on all of the distant hills and mountains surrounding Narnia?

Although Lord Pevensie's house was enormous beyond all measure, the longer the winter carried on, the smaller it seemed. All of the long hallways were nothing compared to the vast world they were cut off from. What was a manor to an extensive hill? What were the brown thistle-like thorns that grew on the window in Susan's chamber (The roses were of course long out of season) to the daisy-filled meadows of the outside realms? The house grew smaller and smaller in Lucy's mind until it nearly as tiny as the cottage she had left behind in Ettinsmoor all those years ago. Sometimes, it seemed so small, even, that she didn't doubt she could hold it in the palms of her hands if she dared to try.

In all fairness, there were many attempts from everyone (Even Helen-who for once managed to suggest something without a hint of sarcasm in her voice) to keep boredom at bay.

Lord Pevensie suggested chess and a cup of hot coffee as a suitable way to pass the chilly afternoons that followed after morning routines and lessons were completed.

At first, Lucy thought it was a good idea until she reached a point where she felt she never wanted to see another chess piece again as long as she lived-in all honesty, she wasn't surprised that Lord Pevensie eventually started feeling the same way. He continued playing until the kitchen servants ran out of coffee and could not go out to get more because they were snowed in. Then he muttered in old Narnian what Lucy gathered to be a sort of out-of-date curse word and left the room.

Susan was too busy to put much effort into amusing her idle little stepsister. Her days were the longest of anyone in the household. She rose up shortly before five in the morning and tended to her little Robin and Sparrow who peered up at her and let out strange little chirps as if confused by how different she looked in her plain cotton nightgown as opposed to the pretty lacey things she had once worn and how very strange it was to have the winter sun that escaped from the tightly drawn curtains fall on a bare white neck without even a small glimmer of gold jewelry on it.

Then she washed her face, donned her plain black frock, and pulled her hair back with a rather scrappy-looking black ribbon. When she was dressed and ready to begin her day, she went down to the kitchen and grabbed something quick for herself to eat before fixing up a tray for Peter which she would then carry up to his chamber-greeted by the sound of his early morning cough which usually resulted in a rather raspy, "Good morning, Susan." Followed by what often sounded like his body attempting to throw-up his own lungs.

After breakfast-and cleaning up whatever her brother could not manage to keep down-she made sure he took his medicine even when he complained that he didn't want it.

"It burns my throat going down." He croaked one morning, turning his face away from the tea-spoon she was holding up to his lips.

Being imperfect and tired, Susan could think of a million not-so-nice ways to respond but she remembered that she herself had not exactly been on her best behavior all the time back when he'd had to look after her. She could even recall an eleven year old Peter walking in to a room she'd vomited all over, rubbing his eyes in amazement and muttering, "Dear Aslan, Su! How _did_ you manage that?" as he pointed up to the celing which she had somehow gotten puke on. Thinking about that made it easier to deal with him and made the smell of the brown vomit her dress sometimes reeked of after spending a morning cleaning the non-water basins by his bedside less intense.

Tumnus completely drew the line when he caught her cleaning Peter's chamber pot in the window. It was sweet and fitting that she should want to look after her brother and perhaps wearing plain clothes that were not so easy to soil was a smart idea, but having the lass who had once been the lady of the house cleaning a chamber pot was nothing short of vile! Even the lowest of the servants that worked for them had never had to touch a chamber pot because Lord Pevensie-being as wealthy as he was-had a bathroom with plumbing. Peter had simply been too weak to walk all the way to it.

"Susan Pevensie!" Tumnus scolded, sounding very much like an out-raged father as he pulled the chamber pot away from her.

Susan didn't seem to understand what he was so upset about. "Whatever's the matter, Tumnus?"

"I've just walked in on the lady of the house cleaning poop, that's what wrong!" Tumnus exclaimed incredulously. "Leave that to someone else."

"I am not the lady of the house anymore, Tumnus." Susan said in a kind but severe voice, speaking in modern Narnian. "Ladies of title don't work as nursemaids and that's what I am. Nor do they dress as I do."

"Come now," Tumnus protested in a reasonable tone. "think of it like this; Peter is still 'Master Peter' and he once became a nurse for you."

"It was different with him." Susan said calmly, washing her hands in a basin to clean them after touching the waste before dumping the now-contaminated water out the window on a plant that was turning browner with each passing day. "He was the only son and everyone was fond of him. What he did would be considered a sign of great humility. If I was to attempt to stay a lady through all of this, I would simply either be looked upon as mad-which many think I'm not far off from-or else the dull-minded victim of unfortunate circumstances. I cannot abide being either one, Tumnus. So, I'm going to make a nursemaid out of myself."

Tumnus shook his head. "By the Lion, child! The way you speak, you could nearly convince a penguin it could fly in the heavens!" Still he was adamant about the chamber pot and took it away saying that in the future-lady of the house or not-she wasn't going to be cleaning those herself and to simply bring it down to the other servants.

In the afternoons she had more herbs and medicines to give to Peter along with the noon meal which usually resulted in yet another mess for her to clean up while he apologized profusely and she told him not to worry about it. Making sure he wasn't running another fever or getting dehydrated or else in need of anything she could provide, usually took up all of her time until the evening when it was time for her to bring up yet another meal to him. By this time in the day, his stomach had cooled a bit and he could keep most of the food down. Thus, it was a third, although much smaller, mess for Susan to attend to before she took a book down from his shelves and read to him for a couple of hours.

Sometimes she changed the words around just to see if he was paying attention or if his mind was on something else. Every once in a while, she could make him laugh but it would always turn into a cough.

When he had finally fallen asleep or else decided that he didn't want to keep her up with him all night just because he couldn't sleep himself and asked her to leave, she would go back to her chambers and collapse on the bed utterly exhausted. Her last thoughts of the day were usually centered around whether or not she had ever made Peter feel this tired after taking care of her all day. Had he ever felt so worn out that he though he couldn't bare to lift another muscle? Why hadn't he ever said anything? The answer would come to her at the same time as sleep would: It was worth it. He'd loved her enough to give every bit of effort and time he had into caring for her and now it was her turn to show that she loved him just as much.

Watching Susan grown thinner and paler (even though it seemed nearly impossible considering the small white slip of a thing she already was), Lucy often felt guilty. She wanted to help out but Susan rarely was willing to let her. She'd even attempted one morning to dress as plainly as Susan and said she was going to be a nursemaid, too. Susan had smiled, patted her on the cheek, and told her to change back into her regular fine clothing. Susan insisted that Lucy was the lady of the house now and that she should simply attend to her lessons.

"But Susan, I can help you after lessons are over." Lucy reminded her.

Susan shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"I want to help!"

But Susan would only give Lucy that strange expression the one that made her feel like she had long ago entered into a parallel world since the days when she had been a servant of Digory's and Edmund's and Susan had been a lady of a vast estate. The worst of Susan was that she was so sensible in her way of thinking and explaining things to a person, that you couldn't really argue with her. Lucy would come to her stepsister prepared to demand to be allowed to assist in whatever work needed to be done but all Susan needed to do was say a few logical words in a cool, calm tone and there could be no protesting.

Although her face would turn bright crimson at the mere thought of ever admitting it, Lucy did spend quite a bit of her after-lessons time pining for Edmund. It had been so many months since she had last seen him and she missed him terribly. Sometimes she would sit in her bed chamber's reading nook with a book in her lap staring out into space, long having forgotten to turn the page, too lost in her own thoughts.

She wondered how he and Digory were getting along with the hard winter days and more than once the horrible thought that either of them might have caught the illness going around came to her mind. Even though the walls were thick, Lucy could still hear Peter's coughing ringing through the house sometimes. The thought that Edmund or Digory might be equally sick frightened her. The good news was that she worried for naught-both of the scholarly swordsmen stayed perfectly healthy throughout the out breaks and quarantine. Their own street had not been badly infected to begin with other than an occasional case spread out here and there in-between the extended winter months.

It was around her time of having little else to do other than sit and think the lengthy, icy days away that Lucy fully came to terms with the fact that she was in love with the younger scholarly swordsmen. At first, her feelings made her feel uncomfortable, even a little frightened. Yet, as the days spent with no word from the object of her affections went by she began to see it as less of a negative thing. So what if she loved him? So what if her mother would never approve? This was her life, not Helen's-not even Susan's or Peter's or Lord Pevensie's that these feelings concerned. And if by chance-and she hoped rather desperately that that chance was there-he loved her in return, who was anyone, including her own mind, to say it was wrong? She would tell him, too. Just as soon as the quarantine was over and she had a chance to speak to him alone.

One night, which proved to be a little warmer than the ice storm-filled ones that had proceeded it, Susan sat at Peter's bedside reading aloud from one of the old tomes of Archenland history as he struggled to feign an interest.

He loved his sister and, seeing how hard she struggled to take care of him now, wanted to make her happy but she could have the most dreadfully boring choices when it came to night-time literature sometimes. Why, only yesterday she had read aloud for nearly a full hour directly from the dictionary of Ettinsmoor Latin! For once, even being as ill and restless as he was, Peter had managed to fall asleep quickly. It might not have been quite as dull if the history volume in Susan's lap held any information on royal families or old battles; not a single exciting word was to found in any of its five-hundred pages. It was all agricultural, town-meetings, and laws in nature.

Suddenly Susan's mono-tone reading and Peter's deep, raspy sighs, were interrupted by a loud crash and the sound of someone shouting out angrily.

"What in the world...?" Mumbled Peter, lifting his head up slightly from the pillow before the room spun in front of his eyes and he had to lay it down again.

"You rest, I'll go see what's wrong." Susan told him, closing the book, standing up, and placing it on the now empty chair behind her.

Peter shook his head in slight protest. "It sounded like father."

Susan nodded grimly, blinking back tears. "Yes, I know."

"It's today, isn't it?" Peter said softly, allowing his eyes to drift from his sister over to the calendar on the opposite wall.

She reached down and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "It'll be alright."

"I think you should just go to bed." Peter suggested nervously. "Leave him alone, that's what he needs right now."

"Try to get some sleep." Susan said shortly, not unkindly as she leaned over and blew out the little white-and-blue porcelain oil lamp on his bedside table.

"Be careful, Susan." Peter pleaded with her, looking rather nervous. "Try not to let him see you."

Susan didn't respond.

"Susan..." Peter croaked, starting to lose his voice again.

She kept walking away.

"Promise me you'll go straight to your own room tonight." He insisted, sounding more and more hoarse by the second.

Susan pressed her lips tightly together. "Goodnight, Peter." She didn't promise anything.

"Susan!" He called after her but she was already traveling down the long ashen-pillared hallway towards one of Lord Pevensie's study-rooms.

There was another nasty, violent, unpleasant crash followed by some Modern Narnian curse-words that were anything but mild in tone.

Tumnus rushed out of the room, looking pale and flustered but also somewhat resigned as if he had anticipated this happening and was almost prepared for it.

The door was still open and an empty bottle which had once been filled with strong Calormene spiced-wine flew across the hall, hurtling towards Tumnus's head. He ducked and the bottle missed him, smashing on the wall opposite of the study room. There was a faint clinking of glass-rain falling down onto the tiles bellow.

Susan, standing behind a pillar in a shadowy corner, watched this with a remarkably calm expression on her face. She didn't appear shocked or upset-she was simply there viewing it all in utter silence.

"I know you're there." Tumnus said finally, when he'd caught his breath and the hard oak door to the study-room had been slammed shut, followed by the sound of intense weeping.

Susan took a step forward, assuming he was speaking to her before she saw another pale little face sticking out from behind a pillar at the other end of the hallway. Lucy was there, shaking all over, simply terrified. Susan had to fight back the urge to rush across the room and embrace her and tell her that everything was going to be alright. Not so long ago, such things had been Peter's duty and she had been allowed to love her little stepsister in a more distant manner, but his illness had tossed the task into the laps of Susan and Tumnus.

"What's wrong with him?" She heard Lucy whisper tearfully to Tumnus.

"He's just very sad, Lady Lucy." He said calmly, patting her lightly on the arm. "Go back to sleep."

"He sounds angry." Lucy pointed out rather timidly.

He's just sort of a mean drunk, Susan thought, remembering Peter explaining it to her the first time the occurrence had been loud enough for her to take notice of.

Lord Pevensie was not a drunkard and he didn't frequent taverns but every once in a while-usually on the anniversary of his first wife's death-he threw himself into the corner of a room he'd know he would have to himself and swallowed down ale and wine as if it was going out of style. He hadn't done this in a while, not since Helen and Lucy had moved in with them, and Susan couldn't help but wonder if the quarantine had helped drive him to return to the old occasional habit.

Shuddering and closing her eyes oh so tightly, Susan tried not to think about that first time. It had been nerve-racking enough in itself but she remembered-much as she tried to repress it-that under the influence of all that wine, so intoxicated that he could barely walk across the room without stumbling over everything in his path, he had hit Peter. Hard, too. Very hard. She remembered her own tears and how Peter had told her afterwards that it was alright, that it hadn't hurt him very badly, that she did didn't have to worry, that this wouldn't be likely to happen again for a long, long while. She hadn't believed him then, because after he'd pulled away from embracing her, she saw his black-and-blue cheek and cried again. That was the first and last time Peter had ever gotten a beating from their father. In the morning, having seen what he'd done, he had apologized and then shut himself into another room alone because he was unable to bear the sight of what his actions had resulted in.

Susan knew that both Peter and Tumnus wanted to keep her away from him when he was like this (with good reason) but she had sudden impulse to try and talk to him. Obliviously, it wasn't the best of times but maybe, just maybe he was drunk enough now that he wouldn't remember that it was her fault his wife was gone.

She waited behind her pillar until she saw Tumnus lead Lucy away back towards the corridor where her bedchamber was located. Then she stepped out and walked over to the doorway. Her hand was raised as if to knock but she changed her mind and dragged it over to the knob instead. There was the sound of stumbling coming from inside and another muttered curse and sob.

Lord Pevensie lay on the rug in the center of the study-room flat on his face, staying perfectly still almost as if he was dead.

He's not dead, Susan told herself-knowing it the second she saw his body raise itself up slightly as it took a breath. The word 'father' rose up into her mouth but she didn't say it. She just looked at him, steady moving closer.

Sensing, even in his drunken state, that someone was in the room with him, he rolled over and blinked up into the dim lighting at the figure of the lady walking over to him.

As if completely stunned and over-joyed, he sat up and smiled.

Susan couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled at her before now. Sad, but true. No, actually she could remember. She had been about seven or so-it had been back when her mother was still alive.

Swaying from side to side as he struggled to stand up, Lord Pevensie exclaimed, "Sara!"

Susan closed her eyes and thought seriously about turning around and racing out the door. It had been a long time since that name was said in their household.

He almost fell back down again and Susan had to rush over and lift him up-any hopes of making a quick getaway vanished.

"I'm so happy you came back, Sara!" He slurred happily, tears running down his face. "Why did you leave?"

"I'm not Sara." Susan told him, unable to make her voice quite as firm as she would have liked. "It's me, Susan."

He didn't seem to hear her. "I've missed you so much, Sara."

"Susan." She corrected him again.

"Susan?" He blinked at her in confusion. "I think she must be in bed by now, Sara, It's awful late. Why do you ask?"

"I didn't ask and I'm not Sara." Susan said, finally finding a stronger tone to speak in. "_I'm_ Susan."

He leaned close to her, squinted, and then backed away with a deeply pained expression on his face. "Oh, Susan!" He looked horribly disappointed, Susan noticed. "I'm sorry..." He seemed to be struggling not to let his words slur. "It's just...you look so much like her now..." Tears rolled down his cheeks faster and faster. "I'm so sorry...It's not your fault, it's not...so much like your mother..." He was slurring again now, but she didn't care. "I'm so sorry."

Susan didn't answer him; rather, she took hold of his right arm and helped him up into a chair so he wouldn't fall onto the floor again. (Aslan forbid, he should slide off the chair).

"I miss her so much." He sobbed into his hands.

"I know." Susan said as she left the room knowing she couldn't take much more of this. "Believe me, I know."

"Please don't go the way she did." He said suddenly.

"I wont." Susan promised, speaking more to herself than to her father.

**AN: Wow, that shed some new light on Lord Pevensie's character, didn't it? In all honesty, I'm surprised even though I wrote it! Anyway, Please review!**


	29. Mail call

**AN: This chapter was going to be longer but the plot of the rest of it fit better into my idea for the next chapter in which the quarantine will FINALLY end. **

The quarantine's end came slowly. Much of the snow and frost melted and the dead bodies were finally taken away and buried or cremated depending on their condition, social status (even the homeless have a sort of status-quo amongst them), and-in some cases-the street they happened to be found on.

The postmen and other officials of the Narnian government's letter-carrying services were the some of the first persons to enter out onto the streets again. They carried what nearly everyone had been in want of all winter, news. Was so-and-so doing well? Was this or that person ill or was that just a rumor? Had a house-wife or two, having no one else but her husband for company during the long, cold, bitter days the community had just endured become pregnant? If so, did they think it possible that it was going to be twins and not a single birth? Was there any truth to the rumors that the old faun who had been a rug-seller had died over the last month?

As soon as Lucy heard that the postmen were working again, she made a mad dash for the front door and glanced hopefully at the silver, engraved, mail-slot. She was, of course, hoping for a letter from Edmund-although after being cut off from the rest of the world for so very long, a letter from _anyone _seemed terribly exciting. Even that hideous drawing of a green, scaly-skinned, ugly-as-sin, monster that Eustace had sent his aunt and cousin for no apparent reason, caused tears of joy to spring up into Lucy's eyes.

"She does get so worked-up when she's overly tired." Helen sighed, reaching her quick fingers over towards her daughter and grabbing the stack of letters that had just arrived out of her hands.

"Mum-" Lucy started to protest, her heart beating like a drum, thinking that one of them just might be from Edmund; Her Edmund. When she had started thinking of him as belonging to her in that way, she wasn't quite sure. Perhaps such thoughts simply came to a person naturally when they fell in love. Maybe the fact that she had began to call him-at least in her thoughts, for she wouldn't dare say such a thing out loud, 'my sweet Edmund' or 'Dearest Ed' was only to be expected. Never having been in love before now, Lucy wasn't really sure of what was run of the mill as far as that was concerned. To her, few-if any-of the feelings that sprang up into her heart whenever she thought about him seemed normal.

"Hush, child." Helen told her, thumbing quickly through the white envelopes. Even though Lucy was fourteen, nearly fifteen, she was still regarded as 'child'. Tumnus still called all of them that, too, but it sounded sweet and endearing when he said it as opposed to the feeling of someone scraping nails along a chalk board which was how Lucy felt when her mother addressed her like that.

"Is there anything for me?" Lucy asked, forgetting that if Edmund had written her, he would probably have sent it addressed to Peter or Susan to avoid it falling under Helen's inspection.

"Here." Helen huffed exasperatedly, shoving a letter at Lucy's hands.

It was from Marjorie. Her letter was short and sweet but full of heart all the same. She said that she hoped they were all doing well and that only one person at the inn had caught a mild case of the illness and appeared to be recovering in good sprits. She mentioned that she hoped to come and visit Lucy soon when the general public was allowed on the streets again. Her letter was so cheerful and positive that Lucy's stomach hurt when she thought of writing back and telling her that Peter was ill and Susan had transformed herself from a lady to a nursemaid. Not sure of the best way to handle the situation, she folded the letter up, placed it back in its envelope and put it aside to deal with later.

Helen had finished sorting through the mail and looked rather sullen as she scowled down at the little buddle of letters in her hands.

I wonder what she's so upset about, thought Lucy-studying her mother's stern expression with a level of inquisitiveness, she hasn't been quite as bad as she might have been during this quarantine and now that the mail can flow freely again, she's angry?

The answer to Lucy's questions came when the letters were divided into categories. Bills (four), letters from Lord Pevensie's investors (Six), letters to Lord Pevensie from friends and distant relatives (eight), letters to Lucy (there was one from Digory addressed to her as well as the one from Marjorie), letters to Susan (One from the Tarkaan Rabadash, one with no return address and Telmarine post-marks on it, two from poor idiotic love-sick suitors-brothers in fact-who had seen her face from the window in passing a few months before the quarantine began and had 'fallen madly in love' with her and wished to appeal to her in hopes of gaining her favor before they went to her father because they were too poor for him to consider other-wise, and one from Edmund), letters for Peter (One from Edmund and one from Digory), And the final category-which remained devoid of any letters whatsoever, letters for Helen. No one, not even that kiss-up Aunt Alberta or the neighboring ladyships Helen sometimes gossiped with, had bothered to write.

Lucy did feel a prick of sadness for her mother when she realized this. True, Helen could be thoroughly unpleasant to be around but wasn't there anyone-one single person out there-who thought of her if not fondly, with something less than disgust? Her pity for her mother, however, was somewhat over-ridden by her excitement over noticed Edmund's letter to Susan. Edmund never wrote to Susan except when he was really writing to Lucy and expected her to pass the letter on. After all, Edmund and Susan had very little to say to each other with the expectation of the quick occasional muttered greetings and the letter appeared to be rather thick.

The contents of Edmund's letter (which Lucy had been right in assuming was for her and not Susan) were certainly cheering. She breathed a sigh of deep relief when she read in the first paragraph that he and Digory were both well-their only aliment being that they couldn't endure very many more indoor days and often wasted an hour or so pacing back and fourth waiting for some form of outside stimulation. After that, he said that he hoped she, Susan, and Peter were doing well. He mentioned that as soon as the postmen had returned to work, several new orders for swords that had been backed up came in and it appeared that he and his grandfather were going to have a very prosperous spring indeed this year. A good chunk of the letter was-much to Lucy's delight-centered around how much he had missed her all winter and how he couldn't wait to see her again. All the same, although she read those parts over and over, she couldn't figure out if he had the same sort of feelings for her that she had for him; she would have to wait to see him in person for that.

Peter's letter from Edmund was shorter than Lucy's but a bit more grave in nature-perhaps in a strange way, Edmund had sensed that something was wrong with his friend even though he didn't know what. That letter assured him that all was well on his own street but that he worried for Peter's household and requested that he write back soon.

Sitting with his back propped up against a layer of pillows in the bed, Peter read the letter, sighed, and asked Susan to bring him a quill and paper so he could write him back. After the third wobble-handed sentence, Peter let out a groan and looked over at Susan hopefully.

"Can you finish the letter for me?" He asked, forcing an apologetic smile that had more of a wince-like appearance to it than anything else. The illness had weakened him to the point that some days it was hard to do much of anything. Holding up the quill and propping the paper on the hardcover book Susan had given him to write on, had left him utterly exhausted. He hadn't stood up from his bed for weeks except to use the chamber pot (and even that felt like hard work most of the time).

"I wouldn't know what to say." Susan pointed out, taking the quill and paper from her brother and looked down at them with a rather dumbstruck expression on her face.

Peter leaned his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes half way. "I'll tell you what to write."

There was no arguing with that, Susan nodded and waited for further instruction.

"Just let him know that I'm ill and that's why I couldn't finish the letter myself and add that everyone else is doing fine-including his Lucy." Peter told her, the corners of his mouth turned up with the slightest hint of humor that couldn't be expressed fully in his weak tone.

"_His _Lucy?" Susan cocked an eyebrow up curiously.

His right eye twitched into what Susan thought might have been meant as a sort of wink. "Have you seen the way he looks at her?"

Susan smiled and shrugged, choosing not to disclose the fact that she was well-aware of Lucy's feelings towards Edmund.

"I can tell you this," Peter chuckled, choking back a slight cough. "He doesn't put up with Helen because he wants to spend time with _me_."

"I know." Susan said.

"By the way, remind me to have the, 'you hurt her, you die' talk with him." Peter told her, only half-joking. "He may be one of my best friends, but still..."

"Oh, leave them be, Peter." Susan answered, reaching down to pat his hand. "You wouldn't want to excite yourself too much."

"I'm going to have to have the same talk with your future husband someday." Peter reminded her, giving his sister's hand a light friendly squeeze. "If I were you, I'd worry more about that."

Susan shook her head. "As if anyone would marry me."

Peter choked back another cough and let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. "Susan, have you _seen_ yourself?" He was used to his sister but he knew that to most men unrelated and unavailable to her (and a few who were neither) she was nothing short of stunning. She had more suitors than he could ever keep track of, she'd be sure to be married to somebody eventually, if only one of those men could prove themselves worthy of her. Peter wouldn't let her go to just anyone, that was part of the reason he hadn't gone to Cair Paravel.

"Peter, I know your vision might be a little blurry from being so sick, but I don't look like I used to." Susan pointed out, sitting on an empty spot on the bed beside him. "I'm a nursemaid now, remember?"

Peter squinted and stared hard at her for a moment. "Sorry Susan, you're still beautiful."

She let out a sigh of disappointment. "I must be cursed or something."

Peter took his hand from under her's, reached up to her face, and patted her cheek lightly. "Or something."

"Thanks, Peter." Susan said, scooting up half-way and reaching into the pocket of the smock she wore over her black frock and pulled out the letters from her suitors. "Are you up for a good laugh?"

"Poor fellows." Peter sighed, opening his eyes a little wider as he spoke.

"Would it be mean if I read them out loud?" Susan asked with a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Probably." Peter's shoulders forced themselves up into a slight shrug. "But you should do it anyway."

"Let's start with the one from that awful Tarkaan Rabadash." Susan suggested. "It has six pages just about the colour of my eyes."

Even that sounded more interesting than the books Susan had been picking out these past few evenings. "Let's hear it."

**AN: Please review.**


	30. Things we just can't say right now

**AN: 30th chapter! Yay!**

The day the quarantine was officially declared over, Marjorie woke up early and did her chores as quickly as possible so she could rush over to Lord Pevensie's house and see Lucy. She was a little concerned over the fact that her friend had never written back to her and feared something horrible might have happened in that household.

She quickly donned a proper visiting dress and neat white smock. Then she brushed out her long hair which had darkened from it's former white-blond to a butter-yellow and grown four inches over the winter and laced a sky-blue ribbon along the top of her scalp like a head band fastening it into a small, crisp bow. In spite of the young way she dressed-the only garments she was owned were the sort of clothes that could be called 'children's frocks'-it was clear that she had grown up quite a bit during the quarantine. Her chest was larger with more than a faint hint of a blossoming bosom and her cheeks had lost much of their baby-fat and become just the slightest bit more angular in shape. This showed off her long nose which had looked rather out of place on her full cheeks and made it look considerably pretty.

After she was dressed and had put on her white stockings, she slipped on the pair of black leather shoes she had polished the night before so that they shinned like two glittering ebony mirrors on her feet. Next she put her nicest white gloves with the translucent-bead buttons at the wrists. Once, not so very many years ago, she hand longed for a soft furry muff. An elegant muff seemed much nicer than the ordinary gloves she was given to wear (Lucy had been given a muff after becoming Lord Pevensie's stepdaughter) but she was told that proper etiquette would require her not to ask for finery when the things she already owned were perfectly fine. Part of her still wished she had known the joy of having a pretty muff but now that she was older, the sting of having the wish denied wasn't so horrible as it used to be. She didn't mind her gloves, rather, she quite liked them-they had grown on her in a way. All the same, she promised herself that if she should ever have a daughter of her own who asked for a muff in the wintertime, that daughter would get one-no questions asked.

Grabbing her navy-blue wool coat and her umbrella (more for the look of it than anything else; it wasn't snowing or raining, nor was it abnormally sunny out) she fast-walked (the closest thing to running allowed in the building) to the inn's front door with a little lady-like call of, "I'm going out." as she tugged at the knob. The door stuck a little because of not being opened for most of the winter but after a few more little yanks and a small grunt, the thawing icicles came off the hinges.

Marjorie walked speedily across the cobble-stone streets and along the sloppy-looking slush puddles of melted snow that had not yet been cleared away. She waved politely to a group of fauns she knew but she did not linger to talk with them, she only pushed her legs to go faster, reminded of Tumnus who worked as a servant in Lord Pevensie's manor.

Once she was standing at Lord Pevensie's front door, Marjorie lightly rapped the handle of her umbrella against the wood of the door three times as a sort of etiquette-approved knock and took a step back.

A tired-looking maid with lack-luster, pale-coloured, eyes and a thin, bony frame answered the knock, and seeing that it was Lady Lucy's little friend, let her in and told her she would inform the household of her arrival.

"Thank you." Marjorie said, taking off her coat and handing it along with her umbrella to the maid she was speaking with.

"Marjorie!" Lucy exclaimed happily when she came down the stairs and saw her standing there. "How good to see you again!"

Marjorie rushed to her with her hands held out and the two girls clung to each other excitedly, bouncing up and down for sheer joy of having the comfort of company they had been sorely lacking for so long.

"You've grown." Lucy noticed.

"Oh, not so much as you have, I think." Marjorie said, a little surprised to discover that Lucy was quite a bit taller now and her fair chestnut-coloured hair was almost as long as her own locks were.

"I'm sorry I didn't write you back." Lucy told her, her face growing a little more somber now. "It's just...so much has happened..."

"Oh dear." Sighed Marjorie, shaking her head and clicking her tongue sadly. "I feared something of the sort. Do tell, Lucy, what's is it? What's wrong?"

Before Lucy could open her mouth to answer, Susan walked passed them carrying a serving tray with some beef stew she was bringing up to Peter, hoping he'd be able to keep it down although it was doubtful.

Marjorie's own mouth dropped open and she let go of Lucy's hand to cover it with her gloved palms. "She's different!" That felt like a huge understatement. Where was the frightened lady in beautiful velvet and satin dresses who used to peer out from the windows? Surely, she had nothing in common with the serving-maid type girl she had just seen dressed in what the ladies at the inn would have called 'mourning colours', in spite of bearing the same lovely face.

Lucy hung her head a little lower. "She-well, you see-it's..." She wasn't sure how to explain it. Should she say the facts point-blank or tell her exactly how and when things had changed?

Marjorie grabbed onto her lower arm. "Tell me!"

"It's Peter," Lucy explained finally. "He's-"

Bright, shimmering, tears filled up into little pools in the corners of Marjorie's eyes. "Peter caught it, didn't he?"

Lucy nodded. Both girls knew what 'it' they were referring to. "Susan's been taking care of him."

"Tell me," Marjorie said, struggling to remain calm in spite of the crumbled, broken expression she now bore on her face. "is he going to die?"

"No!" Lucy exclaimed firmly, unwilling to let the thought be even momentarily welcomed into their dwellings. "He's ill, very ill, but he isn't going to die, Marjorie-he just isn't."

"Has a doctor been to see him yet?" She wanted to know.

"Yes." Lucy told her. "A good while back."

"What did he say?"

"Peter's immune system was too weak to fight it."

"Oh..." A few tears escaped.

"Don't cry." Lucy said in a firm, yet gentle tone. "He will be alright."

She bit her lip. "I see."

Lucy looked both ways. "Do you want to come upstairs and see him?"

Marjorie's face flushed scarlet but her eyes lit up almost excitedly. "Could I? I mean, are visitors allowed?"

"Come on." Lucy grabbed onto her hand and led her up the stairs towards Peter's bed chamber.

The door was closed half-way so she knocked first just in case. "Can we come in?"

"You and Marjorie?" Susan's voice replied from where she sat in the room as if double checking to make sure of who was there. "Sure."

Peter was sitting in the bed-he still hadn't been able to leave it-trying to swallow down a few spoonfuls of the stew Susan had brought up for him. After three bites and five dry-heaves, he gave up and pushed it aside, looking over at his sister apologetically.

"Hullo, Lucy." Peter's voice was a little stronger now but it still sounded strained and it cracked at least once every few words.

Feeling rather shy, Marjorie stood a few feet behind her, close to the doorway as if glued to the spot. The room was dark, but she could still see Peter's slim, pale, weak-looking shape slightly hunched over like a giant harp on the bed in the center of the room. What a contrast to the strong, brave, golden boy she had remembered him to be; how drastically a sickness could change a person's appearance!

"Peter, you remember Marjorie, right?" Lucy motioned back at her friend who blushed again and took a couple steps forward.

Peter nodded. "Yes, of course." He coughed twice before smiling faintly in Marjorie's direction. "Hello."

She came closer and curtsied. "Good day, Master Peter."

She's much prettier than she used to be, Peter noticed, taking in the sight of the pretty yellow-haired maiden even in the dark shadows of the room.

"H-h-how are you holding up?" Marjorie stammered, feeling more and more stupid by the second and cursing herself inwardly.

Poor thing, thought Peter, it must be terribly awkward to come over to your friend's house and find yourself visiting with their bed-ridden stepbrother. It's too bad no one thought to warn her before hand, how uncomfortable this must be for her!

Out loud, he said, "As well as can be expected, thank you."

She forced a half-smile and nodded again. "I hope you feel better soon."

_I hope you feel better soon? _Marjorie thought feeling more embarrassed and miserable than ever as she reflected on what she had just said; he's got a serious illness not a red nose and a slight cold! Can't I say anything to him that doesn't make me sound mentally retarded?

Peter started coughing again, made a gagging noise, and motioned at an empty basin on his bedside table.

"Oh!" Susan had been lost in thought and hadn't noticed the gesture at first. Now she did and gave him the basin which he threw up in repeatedly.

"I have to go now, Lucy." Marjorie decided, not sure how much more of this she could handle seeing. He used to be so strong and he'd seemed reasonably healthy...and now...

"Why don't you walk your friend to the door." Susan suggested, probably because she didn't want Lucy to see her cleaning out the vomit basin and notice the blood chunks in it. The last thing she wanted was to frighten her little stepsister anymore than need be.

Not fully catching the drift but willing to go along with it all the same, Lucy walked out of the room with her friend who-as soon as they were out of Peter's sight-let a few tears roll down her cheeks.

"He's going to get better, Marjorie." Lucy said again, reaching out and squeezing her hand gently.

"I hope so." She whispered almost inaudibly.

Meanwhile, there was another visitor who had arrived at the front door. This time, Helen answered it because she was passing by and none of the servants had heard the knock. She muttered something about the servants not knowing their places in the household and how it was all Lord Pevensie's fault for 'spoiling' them and swung the door open.

The visitor was Edmund. He was a couple of inches taller than the last time she'd seen him but other than that he still looked the same. An impudent, sinful imp of a boy who wouldn't leave her daughter alone; yes, he was _exactly_ the same.

Helen was still determined that he should be kept away from Lucy and was not at all pleased to see him again. She remembered all of the horrid things he had done to her child: teaching her to sword fight (vulgar!), ripping open her corset, coming to see her during lesson hours...the list just went on and on in her mind. Also, she could still hear the old washer woman's voice ringing in her ears, "That'll be a match one day."

Over my dead body, Helen thought furiously.

"Hello, Helen." Edmund said through his teeth, remembering how she'd slapped him the last time they'd talked.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she reached for the door knob, fully intending to slam the door in his face.

Edmund was too quick for her though; he stuck his boot in the door and nudged his way in. "You didn't really think that would work, did you?"

"All right, you listen and you listen well, here's how it's going to be." Snapped Helen, looking both ways. "I don't want you anywhere near-"

"Lucy!" Edmund exclaimed when he saw her and Marjorie coming towards them. He quickly leaped around Helen and threw his arms around Lucy, pulling her into a tight hug. "Long time no see."

Helen tapped her foot and glowered at them. Stupid washer woman and her stupid predictions! She was so angry that she even thought about storming down to Digory's shop and demanding he keep that boy of his away from her daughter.

Lucy was so happy that she didn't even notice her mother at first. All she could think about was her joy and the warm arms that were wrapped around her middle. It felt so good, so..._right_. If she hadn't known she was in love with him before, she would have known it now. During the embrace, without thinking, she closed her eyes and lowered her head to one of his shoulders.

"Ahem." Marjorie, who unlike the other two, had noticed the ever-growing rage on Lady Helen's face, fake-coughed self-consciously to remind them they weren't alone in the room.

Edmund pulled away from her and tried not to look at Helen-he could picture what her face would look like after seeing that without actually having to view it directly.

"Good day, Edmund." Marjorie said in an attempt to break the silence and keep things civil at the same time.

"Good day, Marjorie." Edmund nodded at her before turning back to Lucy, feeling somewhat uncomfortable now that their long-awaited greeting was over.

"You came to see Peter, right?" Lucy said.

"Yes," Edmund sighed heavily, knowing that he could hardly say anything else with Helen looking at him like she was going to smack him again. "that's right." It wasn't that he didn't want to see Peter-he was actually pretty eager to see how his friend was doing-but he wanted some time alone with Lucy, too. It just didn't seem like that was going to happen. At least not now.

"He's up here." Lucy said, reaching out for Edmund's arm to lead him but then dropping her hand before making contact feeling much younger than she really was under her mother's watchful glare.

By the way, Lucy said in her head where-unfortunately-Edmund could not hear her say it, I've fallen in love with you.

**AN: Please review!**


	31. Somehow

**AN: I know this chapter's a bit on the short side (Sorry), I'll try to make the next chapter longer.**

Peter had been trying to fall asleep. A mid-morning nap wouldn't hurt considering the only time he didn't feel weak and dizzy was when he was sleeping; in most of his dreams, the illness couldn't hurt him. He stared up at the celing for a few restless moments before sighing deeply, giving up, and turning back to Susan.

"Can't sleep?" Susan could tell what was wrong.

"It's harder to sleep in the morning." Peter groaned. "I feel as if I should be up and doing so many things. This doesn't seem right, you know? I'm supposed to be tutoring you now, not lying in bed because I lack the strength to stand up. Hang it all!"

Susan walked over to the bedside and put her hand on his forehead. "You're warmer than before..." She soaked a cloth in cool water, folded it up, and placed it on his forehead. "Just try to rest."

"I can't." Peter protested, glancing wearily at the dark curtains drawn tightly at the window. "I hate this."

"I know." Susan said gently.

"I miss the sunlight." Peter told her. "Can't you open the curtains just a little bit?"

"It might hurt your eyes." Susan reminded him.

Peter reached up and slid the cold cloth down onto his closed eyelids. "There, it can't hurt me now. Please, just open the window."

"The air's too chilly." Susan refused to back down. "It might make you worse."

"Oh for Aslan's sake!" Peter exclaimed in as loud a voice as his throat would allow him to use. "If I'm going to die, I'd rather not do so in the dark."

"You're not going to die." Susan sighed, realizing that it was probably more of a fever coming on talking than her brother trying to be difficult. Besides, she remembered days on which she had been far, far worse that he was being now.

On the other side of the door, Edmund knocked and then entered the room without waiting for an answer. "Hey, Pete."

Even though he couldn't see him because of the cool cloth blocking his view, he recognized his voice. "Hullo, Ed."

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked him.

"No." Peter answered truthfully, not realizing that Lucy was in the room, too. "I think I'm dying slowly." Whether or not he was serious or perhaps only making a mild attempt at a joke was unknown but those words stabbed Lucy right in the heart all the same.

"The doctor said you weren't going to die." She blurted out speaking just as much to herself as to everyone else in the room.

"I know, Lucy, don't worry about it." Peter mumbled, forcing the corners of his mouth to turn upwards in an attempt to comfort her.

"I think he's starting to run a little bit of a fever." Susan said calmly. During his illness, fevers had come and gone. As along as they didn't panic, he usually got over them with the proper care. "It's making him exaggerate a bit."

"It's good to see you again." Edmund said to Peter. "We'll leave you to rest." He lightly wrapped his fingers around Lucy's left hand as if waiting to see if she would pull away or not. When she didn't, he tightened his grip just a very little bit and led her out of the room.

Thankfully, Helen was still downstairs so they were able walk quietly over to a pair of white double doors which led to a green-carpeted sitting room branching off of one of the guest chambers.

When they stood on the other side of those doors, they stared at one another without saying a word. After a while, unable to hold his gaze any longer, Lucy looked away.

Sensing sadness in her eyes, Edmund took a step closer to her. "I think he'll be alright, Lu." He took one of hands in his again. "I mean, he has people to look after him, and then there's Susan-He'll get better..."

Lucy blinked back another round of tears that were not only from mourning for her sick stepbrother. "Yes, he will."

"Will you be alright, though?" Edmund asked gently, making eye-contact with her again.

"I think so." Lucy's voice came out as barely a whisper.

"Good." Edmund seemed reasonably satisfied by that answer.

She had to tell him now; who knew when she would get to be alone with him again? For all she knew, her mother could barge right through those doors mere seconds from now and drag him away. If Lucy waited for that, she would have missed what might be her only chance to tell him how she felt.

"Ed," Lucy started, swallowing hard, suddenly frightened that he might shake his head and say something alone the lines of, 'sorry, Lu, I don't think of you in that way.' as soon as the words died on her lips. "I need to tell you something."

His eyes darkened with concern as his hand gently slid from her palm up to the side of her arm. "What is it?"

Lucy opened her mouth but the words didn't come out on the first three tries. Finally, in a voice so low it seemed almost as if she was mouthing the words more than saying them she managed to squeak out, "I love you."

Even in that nearly inaudible peep, Edmund heard her. He looked at her for a moment as if trying to figure out if she had really said that or if he had just imagined it. A slow smile spread across his face and without even a single word of response, Lucy felt relief rushing through her whole body. That wasn't an 'I'm sorry' smile. Or at least it didn't seem at all like any apologetic looks she'd ever been given before in her life. It looked like, at least she thought-never having actually seen that expression on a boy looking at her before, he wanted to kiss her.

He came closer to her and tilted his head. Not sure exactly what she should do, Lucy tilted her own head in the same direction and they bumped noses rather hard before their lips could make contact.

"Ouch." Edmund muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry." Lucy gasped, blushing so hard that both her cheeks turned deep crimson.

Edmund's smile returned. "It's okay," He looked both ways and one of his eyes twitched at her in a sort of half-wink, reminding her of the first time she'd seen him that day in the market place. "Would you mind terribly if I tried that again?"

Lucy smiled back at him. "No, go ahead."

One of his arms slipped around the right side of her waist and this time his lips pressed against her's for a short moment before he pulled away.

"I-I..." Lucy stammered awkwardly, blinking rapidly unable to stop her eyelashes from batting no matter how hard she tried.

"It was my first one, too." Edmund admitted sort of shyly, sliding his arm away from her waist and back to her hand.

"We should get back downstairs before..." Lucy said, reaching to open the doors.

Edmund leaned close to her ear and whispered in a low breathy voice that made the lobe tickle, "I love you, too."

A little while later, Lucy stood at the open front door way, watching him walk away from the manor down the cobblestone pathways. She was well-aware of her mother standing a few feet behind her glaring at his retreating back but she didn't care. She had something from him that Helen would never be able to take away no matter how hard she tried. He loved her; she'd hoped for it before, but now, in spite of everything, she had it. At that moment, in the deepest parts of her heart, she knew that everything would turn out alright in the end. Peter would get better, Susan would find her freedom, and she herself would find a way to be with Edmund. She wasn't sure _how_ any of it would happen, just that it would if she was willing to wait for it. And she was, she truly was.

"It will happen somehow." Lucy whispered to herself. "Aslan willing, _somehow_."

Meanwhile, Susan was sitting in a chair by the window up in her chamber. Peter's fever had gone down a bit and after much moaning and groaning, he'd managed to fall into a semi-peaceful sleep. So she was stealing a few moments alone with her sparrow and robin who had been feeling-even in their non-talking, dumb creature hearts-rather rejected as of lately.

She watched Edmund walking away and Lucy standing a ways off with a secretive little smile on her face that Helen's scowl could not wipe away. Susan didn't know exactly what had happened between the two of them when they'd slipped away into that other room for a little while but she could have guessed if she had to. For some reason, Lucy's smile combined with the teeny, tightly closed, rose-buds which had begun to show up on the windowsill a little early this year, made her think of the letter with the Telmarine post-marks. She hadn't shown that one to Peter nor had she opened it yet. Even Tumnus didn't know about it. She didn't want to worry them. Besides, she was fairly certain it was not from Miraz.

Don't read it, Susan's mind seemed to be screaming, if it really is from Caspian, you don't want anything to do with him-you're the reason his father is dead, remember?

"Shut up." Susan said, surprising herself and the birds who were peering up at her struggling face, surprised that their quiet mistress was speaking. She didn't speak much to other people and she never talked to herself, at least, she never had _before_. "I _am_ going to read it."

**AN: Please review**


	32. Some money lost and some fear gained

With all the courage Susan could muster up in her new-found determination, she slowly opened the letter's envelope, took out it's contents, unfolded them, and gently smoothed out the creases before starting to read. It was a short letter-it was in fact from Caspian, not Miraz, just as she had assumed from the first-with wide margins. It didn't call her by name because Caspian still didn't know it. She was simply addressed as, 'Shy girl in window with roses' and other similar terms. All it said was pretty much that he-Caspian-had heard about the illness plague that had hit Narnia and had also learned that the postal workers had returned to the streets and he was writing to say hello and to ask if she had gotten the glass rose he'd sent her.

I wont show this letter to anyone, Susan decided when she had finished reading it, If anyone learns of it they'll likely think he's another suitor and a desirable one at that and goodness knows Helen might push me on him for her own gains. But it's not like that, it's not like that at all, no one-except maybe Peter and Tumnus-understands what's really going on. Well, this letter will have to be my secret. Mine and the robin's and the sparrow's.

In a month's time, Peter grew a little stronger. He was still rather prone to fits of coughing and he had to watch what he ate, lest it be something that would upset his stomach and not allow him to eat much for the next fortnight or so, but he was strong enough to get out of bed if Susan was there for him to lean on so he didn't fall to the ground if his strength suddenly gave way. Because of this, he could sometimes eat in the dinning hall with the rest of the family; although, strangely enough, Susan no longer did. After she helped her brother to the table she stood off to the side where the servants who waited in the room in case Lord Pevensie should want to send for more bread or salt or for the next course to be served early, were stationed.

"Sit with us, Susan." Lucy had said the first time she'd noticed her stepsister standing off to the side as though she didn't belong in their family.

Susan shook her head. "Thank you most kindly, but no."

"But Susan-" Lucy started to protest, placing her salad fork down on the table near the sauce bowl and looking over at Susan incredulously.

"Hush, child." Helen said shortly, bringing a pale slice of green cucumber to her lips as she spoke. "Let the girl stand in front of her betters."

Lord Pevensie glared at his wife from his place across the table. "Do not speak of my child in that manner, Helen."

"I'm not the one who forced servitude on her; remember that, husband." Helen shot back curtly.

"So this is my fault now, is that it?" Lord Pevensie boomed, showing more sprit than Lucy had seen in him since that night he'd gotten drunk and hurled that wine bottle at Tumnus's head.

Susan crept over to the table. "I would appreciate it if you didn't argue in front of Peter, he's still recovering."

"I would appreciate it if there was salt on this table, Susan." Helen said, ignoring her husband's growing fury-his red face and deep scowl-clearly thinking herself the head of the household.

Is this what it's come to? Lord Pevensie thought indignantly, have I made myself so absent from my children's lives that I would allow Helen to boss my own daughter around like that? Is that really and truly what the little safe world I've built for myself is coming to? If so, I don't like it.

"Don't listen to her, Su." Peter wheezed, the excitement causing him to break into another coughing fit. "She doesn't have a right to-" He started coughing harder now and couldn't finish his sentence.

Cool as the cucumbers in Helen's salad, Susan fixed an icy, blank, yet firm stare in her stepmother's direction. "I am Peter's nursemaid, _not _your servant. If you want something find someone else to do it, or better yet try to do with out it or use those two hands of yours before they get bedsores on them." She stifled back a slight yawn and placed a plaid blanket over Peter's heaving shoulders.

"Impudent!" Helen exclaimed angrily. She looked over at Lord Pevensie. "Did you hear how she spoke to me?"

Lord Pevensie nodded as he brought his wine goblet to his mouth. "Yes, I couldn't have said it any better myself."

"Perhaps I over-stepped a line." Helen admitted begrudgingly.

"Just a little." Peter coughed, shaking his head and signaling for Susan to help him up out of his chair so he could go back upstairs to his bed chamber.

The next morning at breakfast which-thanks to Susan's getting up early as usual-Peter was sitting at with the rest of the family, Helen didn't say much at first. It seemed that she and Lord Pevensie had fought and neither were speaking to the other at the moment.

It was then, breaking the silence in the room filled otherwise with only the quiet chomping of toast, that Tumnus walked in carrying a small white envelope which he handed to Lord Pevensie, bending down and whispering something in his ear.

"Hmm." Lord Pevensie hummed contemplatively as he swallowed down the oatmeal his mouth was full of before adding, "Yes, I'll see to it. Thank you, Tumnus."

"Who's it from?" Peter wanted to know.

"One of my investors, I believe." Lord Pevensie said in a very matter-of-fact sort of way before opening it. As he read its contents, his face dropped and he suddenly looked much older as if he had aged rapidly in a mere five seconds. He read it over twice, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"What's wrong?" Lucy blurted out, noticing the stricken look on her stepfather's face.

"It's not too bad." Lord Pevensie said softly, folding up the letter. "I suppose it could be far worse...it's just a bit of a shock..."

Gathering that money was involved, Helen's ears pricked up and she looked over at her husband nervously. "What's a shock?"

"We've lost some money, we'll just have to tighten the ropes around here a bit." Lord Pevensie told them.

"How much?" Helen demanded crossly.

"Some." He answered monosyllabically.

"What do you mean _some_?" She refused to back down.

He sucked in his cheeks. "About a quarter of my estate's worth."

"What?" Helen jumped up and threw back her chair, making a thump on the hardwood floor below.

"It's not so bad."

"Not so bad?" She echoed, in a horrified tone. "A quarter of the estate? You're mad! You've lost your mind!"

"If we take in some boarders over the spring and summer, perhaps we can regain our losses or at least get enough to pay off our debts." Lord Pevensie replied calmly. "It will only mean renting out a few rooms we don't really use anyway."

"Do you have any idea how bad that would make us look?" Helen shouted at him. "Having to turn our _home _into an inn?"

"You're blowing this out of proportion."

"No, I'm simply trying to keep this family looking dignified in society."

"Helen, calm down."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"Peter, are you ready to go back upstairs?" Susan whispered in his ear, feeling rather eager to get out of the room.

He nodded in agreement and allowed her to help him up.

"I will not have strangers living in my house!" Helen told him.

"It's _our _house." He reminded her.

"And who, pray tell, is going to live in 'our house', tell me that! The only boarders I've ever known of are students. Young men. Young men in a household with two young girls. Why don't we just place a big sign that reads 'brothel' in the window in big block letters? It's the same thing!" She screamed at him.

"Oh for Aslan's sake, I could have lived my whole life without that image in my mind! And it is most certainly _not_ the same thing!" Lord Pevensie shouted back.

"There must be another way." Helen insisted.

"What do you suggest?"

"I don't know." Helen huffed, stamping her foot frustratedly. "Why don't you marry off that daughter of yours? She's plenty old enough, get a bride price for her and pay the debt that way."

"I will not collect money for my daughter's marriage." Lord Pevensie said firmly, his eyebrows sinking deep into his head. "When Susan marries-"

"Then get her a rich husband and make _him _pay off the debts."

"She can't marry anyone now, she's needed to take care of Peter, remember?"

"We can hire another nursemaid for him."

"No, we can't, remember? A quarter of the estate?" He pointed out.

"Well what about-" Helen's eyes suddenly turned to her own daughter.

Lucy had stayed behind trying to finish her own breakfast and tune out the argument by thinking of something else. She let her thoughts wander to Edmund and sword fighting and to her lessons with Tumnus and a million other things. Suddenly, she was called back to attention.

"What?" Lucy asked nervously. _Why are they both looking at me like that? _

"No!" Lord Pevensie shouted, slamming his fist on the table as the realization of what Helen was thinking hit him. "Absolutely not!"

"She's getting older now." Helen said. Her daughter may not have been as beautiful as Susan but she wasn't unattractive. She had a nice, distinctive face and now that she was Lord Pevensie's stepdaughter she had a decent title to hide behind. She was more the lady of the house than her stepsister was at current time. She knew how to behave in society. Also, getting her married off would keep her away from Digory's boy and stop the washer woman's prediction from coming true. Not to mention save them from having to take in boarders and have their names dragged in the mud. A win-win.

"She's only a child!" Lord Pevensie shuddered remembering her as she was when she'd first come into his house for tea as guest being only a servant of the scholarly swordsmen.

"She's turning fifteen."

Lucy felt like she was going to throw up. They couldn't seriously be talking about getting her _married_. She couldn't marry someone they picked out! She couldn't do something like that to Edmund, her Edmund. No, she wouldn't let this happen. She'd go down kicking and screaming. She could appeal to Peter, he'd never allow it. He was still 'Master Peter' after all, wasn't he?

Lord Pevensie had never been more upset and disgusted with his wife than he was at that very moment. In a slow, final, no-nonsense voice he told her, "Helen, listen to me. Your daughter is not getting married off at such young age, my daughter is not getting taken away from her brother when he needs her, and we are going to take in boarders."

"But-" Helen started.

"No." He said through his teeth. "Not another word." With that, he stormed out of the room.

After breakfast, Lucy threw caution to the wind and went to the scholarly swordsmen's shop to see Edmund. After the scare she'd gotten that morning, she felt nearly desperate to be near him and get the sort of comfort only he knew how to give to her.

The bells jingled and Edmund looked up from the pile of sword-hilts he was unpacking from a large cardboard box. "Lucy!"

Because there was no one else in the shop at that moment (not even Madam Macready or Digory) Edmund put his arms around her waist, pulled her close to him, and kissed her. It was the sort of greeting they liked to have whenever they thought they could get away with it. Lucy put her arms around his neck and continued to kiss him back for a few moments before pulling away.

"So," Edmund said, taking a deep breath. "What's up, Lu?"

"I just really had to see you." Lucy explained, letting go of him.

Even the mere thought of having to be with anyone who wasn't Edmund made her want to cry. She knew Lord Pevensie wouldn't allow her mother to marry her off when she was so young and she was grateful for that, but what was going to happen when she got older? Would her stepfather agree to Helen's plans then? Or maybe they'd be more focused on finding Susan a husband by that time. Still, with the way things were going-Lucy turning into the lady of the house and Susan struggling to become common place-who knew how that might change their fates?

"What's wrong?" Edmund asked, giving her a concerned look.

"Lord Pevensie lost a quarter of his estate." Lucy said.

Edmund crinkled his forehead. "I'm so sorry? I mean, it's a loss but it's not too bad...is it?"

"It gave me the biggest scare of my life this morning." Lucy confessed.

"Oh, Lucy, sweetheart...don't worry...your stepfather has a lot of money...I'm sure whatever Helen said-" He stammered out randomly in an attempt to comfort her.

"I'm not scared of losing money." Lucy whispered, looking down for a moment and then back up into his eyes. "I've been poor before, remember? It wasn't so bad. I'm scared of not being with you."

His expression softened even more when she said that. "Why would you-"

"I thought they were going to make me marry someone else so that we could pay of the debts." Lucy blurted out hurriedly.

Edmund's face fell; his chin seemed to tighten, his eyes darkened a shade, his brows sank in so deeply that they seemed to almost reach his eyelashes, and he took a step back. "They _what_?"

"They aren't...at least not now but..." Lucy shook her head. "I just really needed to see you."

"Your mother is going to kill you for skipping your lessons and coming down here like this." Edmund realized, trying to keep himself calm even thought the thought of Helen forcing Lucy to marry someone else made his blood boil.

"I don't care." Lucy said, throwing her arms around his middle as he embraced her tightly, resting his head lightly on top of her hairline.

Safe and warm, they both wished they could stay like that for ever. No fears, no one to tear them apart, no pain, no ill friends/stepbrothers, nothing beyond themselves too wrapped up in one another to care about anything else ever again.

**AN: Please review!**


	33. A meeting is called

**AN: This chapter picks up right where the last one left off. BTW: If you-for some odd reason-don't already hate Helen in this fic, I'm pretty sure you will by the end of this chapter. **

"Come on," Edmund said gently, slipping his hand into Lucy's "I'll walk you home."

Lucy looked down at their intertwined fingers. "Like this?"

"Your mother's going to be mad either way." Edmund reminded her with a shrug. He let out a heavy sigh and added, "I could let go before we get close to the manor."

Anyone might see us and tell her about it, Lucy thought. Then, I don't care if they do, so what if they know how I feel about him?

The streets of Narnia were filled with people again. Somehow, new beggar children-perhaps ones that had been beggared from not being able to work during the quarantine-roamed about with their little hole-filled shawls drawn around them even on the warmest of days stretching out rusty tin cans to passerbys.

Edmund reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulled out a couple of small coins (It was the only change he had on him at the moment) and dropped it in the can closest to him. Even though the little copper coins weren't worth very much, the child who owned the tin they clinked on the bottom of, grinned up at him as if he had just given up a purse full of gold coins.

"Aye, you're a real gentlemen, sir!" Exclaimed the little boy happily, his dirt-covered, tear-stained face fairly glowing with joy as he spoke. Next he and two of his companions turned to Lucy-who, feeling suddenly guilty that she hadn't put anything in, reached into the folds of her dress searching for pocket money, only to find that she hadn't brought any with her in her haste to come and see Edmund.

"I'm sorry." Lucy apologized. Even with a quarter of Lord Pevensie's estate's worth lost, she should have been able to give the poor hungry children something. "I haven't got anything with me."

"Oh, that's alright, Lady." The boy said, nodding so rapidly that it was more like he was bobbing his head up and down as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Your beau gave to us, counts for you, too."

Lucy glanced over at Edmund shyly. Her beau? Is that what he was to her now? Was this what it meant to be courting? To have a boy you loved hold your hand when you walked down the street? Well whatever it was, she liked it.

A group of small centaurs with their human-halves like that of little woodland dwarfs with long red or black or white beards on their deeply indented faces and horse halves like that of carriage ponies, strolled by nodding at Edmund, knowing that he was a knight. Walking along side them was a she-dwarf who was not a centaur but was in fact, closely related to a family of gnomes who mined for gold and diamonds in the near-by mountains, winked at Lucy as if to say, "You're a lucky one, you know that?"

In all truth, in spite of her fears and worries and all that was going wrong in her life, Lucy _did_ feel pretty lucky at that moment. The way he was holding her hand so gently so that it didn't hurt but so firmly as if he didn't want to let her go, made her feel warm and safe inside. Back on that first day in the marketplace when he'd winked at her, she'd never imagined anything like this happening between them. Friendship, yes. This, now this was a surprise. A wonderful surprise.

A friendly-looking Calormene boy perhaps three years or so younger than Edmund wearing an amber-coloured turban passed by and said hello to them.

"Who was that?" Lucy asked Edmund when the boy was out of ear-shot.

"Oh, no one, really." Edmund shrugged. "My grandfather and I made a sword for his father a while back." He lowered his voice. "But if you ask me, we were greatly under-paid for it."

"I see." Lucy said as they continued to walk alone, finding herself wishing that they would never reach Lord Pevensie's manor and could go on walking hand in hand, laughing at the world until it came to an end.

Suddenly, there was the clamor of hoof beats and a familiar copper-coloured gelding with a Narnian knight all dressed up in show-armor seated on top of him, was standing right in front of them, blocking their way.

"Sir Edmund," The knight lifted his visitor a little, revealing a face that Edmund recognized from Cair Paravel. "Greetings from the castle."

"Greetings returned, friend." Edmund responded in a voice that seemed both formal and informal at the same time. "What news have you?"

He sounds so regal! Lucy thought-unable to hide her surprise at how much older and important her Edmund sounded when he talked to one of his fellow knights, he doesn't sound at all like himself and yet, he is still Ed all the same, I wish I knew how that could be.

The knight on the familiar horse sighed heavily, throwing back his shoulders in a grave fashion. The horse sighed too and let out a sad whinny of distress.

"Why so sad, Phillip?" Edmund asked the horse.

Now Lucy knew why the horse looked so familar. He had been the one pulling Edmund's carriage away when he went to Cair Paravel for training. He looked so different without a harness and with a noble knight seated upon him.

"Oh, Sir Edmund, you know not what horrible counsels there have been at Cair Paravel as of late; I was being told about it on the way and it makes my heart feel so heavy." Phillip answered.

"What _does _he mean?" Edmund asked the knight.

"This ought to explain everything." He handed Edmund a letter with an official royal Cair Paravel stamp on it.

Lucy felt her heart beating faster. _Please don't let it be a war, please don't let it be a war, please don't let it be a war..._ The dream she'd had with Peter and Edmund fighting in a war and both getting injured nearly to the point of death, played in her mind's eye over and over again no matter how hard she tried to make it stop. Peter was too sick to fight and Edmund...well, she couldn't bear to lose him...not now...not ever, actually.

Edmund let go of her hand to open the letter. He did so in a slow, careful manner so as not to look overly anxious in front of the knight but it annoyed Lucy terribly as she was unable to deal with the building tension they were engulfed in.

He unfolded it, read it, shook his head gravely, and nodded back at the knight; folding it up again and handing it back to him.

"What is it?" Lucy blurted out nervously. "What did it say?"

"It's confidential, Lady..." The knight told her, not unkindly but a bit awkwardly because he did not know her name.

"Lucy." Edmund told him.

"Ah, Lady Lucy," The knight went on. "Such matters are for knights only to deal with."

Lucy shot Edmund a pleading glance.

"I'll tell you later." He mouthed.

"We will expect you to report for duty as soon as possible." The knight said in a low tone to Edmund.

What kind of duty? Lucy wondered, remembering the last time they'd talked about a knight's 'duty'. The world 'war' kept ringing in her mind over and over, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Please let it be something else, she prayed silently, _anything_ else. Just not war.

"I understand." Edmund said gravely to the knight who gave Phillip a slight, gentle kick in the side to remind him it was time to start moving again because they still had other knights to pass the message onto.

"What is it, Ed?" Lucy whispered in his ear after the knight and the horse were gone.

"I have to report to Cair Paravel for a meeting of the knights, soldiers, and squires that are qualified to fight." He explained in as low a voice as he could manage without becoming inaudible.

Lucy felt the blood drain out of her face, knowing she must be turning a ghostly-white colour from fear. "Why?"

Edmund shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lu, I can't tell you that."

Lucy took a step away from him and glared at him indignantly. "Why not?"

"Knight's code." Edmund said gently, reaching out to touch her arm as she took another step away and flinched before he could make contact. "It's illegal. I'm taking an awful beastly risk just telling you that there is going to be a meeting at all. We're not supposed to discuss that stuff with anyone who's not involved."

"But I'm your..." Lucy's voice trailed off. "I mean, you can tell me anything."

"Look," Edmund said, taking one of her hands in his and then gently lifting up her chin with the other. "It's not what you think."

"It's not a war?" Lucy blurted out helplessly.

Edmund turned a little red in the face and his mouth twisted as if he was struggling to figure out how he could tell her without frightening her. "It's just a meeting, Lu. Alright?"

"But-" Lucy protested.

"We're just having a little problem with the Telmarines." Edmund whispered, leaning close to her face so that there was no chance of anyone else over-hearing him. "It'll be fine, I promise."

"What about Peter?" Lucy wanted to know. "Does he have to go, too?"

"He can't." Edmund explained. "He's too sick." He looked both ways and then back at Lucy again with a pleading expression on his face. "And whatever you do, Lucy, please don't tell him about this."

What if that knight goes to tell him? Lucy thought sadly, then what? Will Peter try to leave? Will there be a real war with both Peter and Edmund in it? Maybe it really was just an ordinary meeting and nothing bad would happen. But then again, why would they want only the strong men if it wasn't a battle of some sort? What was the truth? Did Edmund know something that he was holding back from her? He had to, the broken look on his face completely gave that away. What it was, exactly, that he couldn't tell her, that much his face would not betray.

As if reading her mind, Edmund added, "Peter doesn't answer the door, he can't even get out of bed without Susan's shoulder to support him, remember? If the knight comes, Susan will be smart enough not to let him in. Tumnus, too. They know Peter."

"He'd want to go, wouldn't he?" Lucy said weakly, blinking back a few tears, two of which escaped and rolled down her cheeks only to be gently brushed away by the side of Edmund's sleeve.

Edmund nodded. "He would feel obligated to, you know that."

"I wont tell, I promise." Lucy told him.

"Good." He sighed deeply, somewhat relieved.

"When do you have to go?" She had to ask.

"Tomorrow."

"How long will you be gone?"

"Love, don't ask me that, I don't know how long." Edmund murmured sentimentally, momentarily forgetting they were in the middle of a public street or maybe he just didn't care.

Lucy felt her cheeks flush. He'd just called her 'love' it didn't matter how many times he said it or where they were she couldn't help blushing when he talked like that. Still, him not knowing when he would be coming back almost over-powered that. She was terrified. If her guess was correct, the Telmarines might have been demanding some sort of payment for all their help during the quarantine. What kind of payment they would ask for and whether or not Narnia would be willing to oblige their wishes, Lucy didn't know. But what else could it be about?

"Listen to me," Edmund said in a firm, determined tone, staring directly into Lucy's eyes. "I _will _come back for you."

"What if something-" Lucy's lips trembled as she spoke. "I mean-I don't know-I..."

"No matter what." Edmund promised. "I'll come back."

"No matter what?" Lucy echoed.

"I swear on the Lion himself." He raised up his right palm as if giving an oath. "No matter what happens, no matter who gets in my way, I, Edmund Kirke, will come back for you, Lucy Pevensie. Aslan willing."

Or even if he's not willing, Edmund thought but didn't say out loud knowing it was borderline blasphemous.

No one in Narnia ever even considered letting a thought like that cross their minds and Edmund couldn't help but wonder if it was possible that he loved Lucy a little too much. He'd pretty much adored her from the first, when she was that little Ettinsmoor beggar, but sometimes he did wonder if his feelings were always in the right. He'd do anything for her which frightened him every once in a while. Before he had Lucy, he was always the sort of boy who never set his heart on things. Not passionately, anyway. He enjoyed his work and he had always loved the rush of sword fighting and though he did have his heart set on being a knight-it was an honour not a possession after all-pretty much everything else he wouldn't allow his heart to hold onto. He cared deeply for his grandfather and Peter and even quiet disdainful Susan-who's struggles he had seen and felt pity for-but beyond them, he was afraid to attach himself to other living beings. He'd seen Digory cry for his dead wife and for his children some nights he'd thought his little grandson was asleep. Edmund had half-decided he'd never marry when little Lucy had stumbled into his life (Unfortunately bringing that annoying mother of her's into it with her). For his beloved Lucy, though, he was willing to surrender even his own old inclinations.

"Be safe." Lucy finally managed, though she felt sort of stupid for not coming up with anything better to say.

"Will you wait for me?" Edmund double checked.

Lucy nodded and bit her lower lip. "Yes."

"Even if-"

"I'll wait." Lucy swore.

He seemed satisfied by that. "Once we get you home, I have to go back and pack and say goodbye to my grandfather and all that."

Lucy trotted briskly along side him, feeling sort of sad that he wasn't holding her hand any longer even if it was for the best considering he had things he needed to do and Helen was likely to be waiting for her, watching from the windows when she returned home.

Speaking of windows, one of the first things Lucy noticed when the manor came into sight was the new sign propped up against the one closest to the street, held in place by the window's lion-clasps. It read: _Rooms for let_.

"I doubt anyone can afford this place." Edmund muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Lucy asked.

"Nothing." Edmund told her, risking a quick goodbye kiss on her cheek.

Helen, who was-as might have been suspected-watching from one of the upper windows saw that and clenched her jaw tightly. She was going to have to give that girl of her's a talking to.

"Goodbye, Ed." Lucy called after him.

"Bye Lu." He called back in a voice that if she didn't know any better, Lucy might have thought sounded like someone trying not to cry.

Feeling rather shaken, Lucy entered the house and went upstairs to her room. Her lessons would have to be completely forfeit today, she was in no frame of mind for studying now. What she wanted to do was collapse on that little cherry-wood rocking chair in the far corner of her bed chamber near the reading nook. The elegant swan-carved chair had been brought when she was still sort of a little girl so it was a bit of a tight fit now that she had actual curves forming on her body but she could still squeeze into it sometimes and rock back and forth when she needed special comfort. Like she did now.

Much to her dismay, when she swung the chamber doors open, her mother stood in the middle of the room with her arms folded across her chest.

"Want to explain to me what you were doing out with Digory's boy when you were supposed to be attending to your lessons?" Helen demanded.

"We went for a walk." Lucy said innocently.

"I thought I told you that you weren't allowed to see him anymore."

Lucy let it out, it didn't matter if her mother knew the truth. "I love him."

Helen's expression tightened and she shook her head at her daughter. "Lucy, don't be stupid, you don't 'love' him."

"No, mum, I really love him." Lucy insisted.

"You can do better." Helen said coldly, reaching out and putting a stern hand on her daughter's left shoulder. "I'm your mother, trust me, I know what's best for you. And what's best for you, is not that boy."

"You want to keep me available so you can marry me off for money when you need it." Lucy sneered, filling up with more rage by the second. "That's what you want. You don't care how I feel!"

Helen took her hand off of Lucy's shoulder and smacked her across the face. "Don't you dare speak to me like that again."

Reaching up to touch her flaming cheek, Lucy discovered something new in her mother's face. Fear. Fear of knowledge. She knew Lucy wasn't lying and she hated her for it. "You know I love him, don't you? And it scares you to death because I wont be around to do your bidding when-"

Helen struck her daughter across the face again. "What did I just tell you?"

"You can hit me all you want." Lucy said through her teeth. "It wont change a thing."

"He ripped open your dress, remember that?" Helen said in a distant voice which seemed to be struggling to regain control of itself.

"He saved my life." Lucy countered.

"You're a fool, Lucy Pevensie." Helen snapped, smacking her daughter across the face one final time just for the sake of doing so before she stormed out of the room. "Thank goodness you have me to look out for you."

Lucy locked the doors behind her so that her mother couldn't just walk right back in if she felt like it and crawled into bed. Her face hurt from the slaps and she felt so down-hearted. Worse, she had the dream again. Aslan on his hill, the manor, the war, Peter falling and getting wounded, Edmund saving him. All if it, the same as before, only clearer and more vivid. It was as if she could feel everything in addition to seeing it. This time, she didn't wake up screaming; she woke up with her eyes opening lightly and a steady rainfall of silent tears streaming down into her pillow.

**AN: Please review! **


	34. Don't have fun storming the castle

The morning Edmund arrived at Cair Paravel, the air was filled with over-cast and fog so thick that the pearly-white towers seemed far away even when he stood so close to them that he could stick out his pinky finger and poke one of the bricks. It was the sort of moist that always made all the knights feel as if they had either soiled their tights or else had been sitting on wet grass in them.

When his carriage arrived, a lucid-eyed faun with thick curly black hair and a weary expression on his reddish-tan face was there to escort him into the great counsel chamber where all the other knights had gathered.

"Welcome, Sir Edmund." The faun said respectfully as they traveled hurriedly down the white-and-gold marble corridors.

Edmund must have said some sort of greeting to the faun because he nodded to him in a resigned way as they kept on walking but when called upon, he couldn't remember exactly what words he had used. He was too nervous. This was the first meeting he had ever been officially called to as a noble and, judging from the letter they'd sent out through one of their most trusted knights, it wasn't likely that they were all being gathered to have a nice chat about the weather and sip tea and eat crumpets. This was serious. Very serious. Part of him was glad he wasn't allowed to tell Lucy simply because if it _had _been allowed, he knew he couldn't make himself keep it from her and she would have been so worried.

The faun opened the door, "Sir Edmund of the swords." he announced the new arrival to the others who were seated in their chairs with somber expressions written all over their faces waiting to start the meeting. Then, "Your chair is over there." He pointed to the empty seat near-much to Edmund's surprise-Lucy's cousin Eustace who by some miracle, while not quite passing for a knight, had been taken into the Narnian army as a low-ranking soldier.

Edmund sat down and in low-but very clear-voices the meeting was started. The situation was that the Telmarines had wanted the Narnians to help them fight a war against a smaller country that was so unknown it was skipped over on quite a few maps-even some of the official ones. The request had been refused saying that Narnia was not one to put their lives and resources into danger for nothing more than what they called a 'bully raid'. No good could come of it, they explained. Well, Telmar was angry at their unwillingness to join the troops in battle and bitterly reminded the Narnians of their debts to Telmar from their help during the quarantine. They still refused saying they were completely in their rights to do so.

"And there has been some rather nasty arguing back and forth..." The head knight running the meeting sighed, pulling out some letters, notices, and scrolls tied in a tight bundle around a set of golden hilts. "We've been trying to keep it quiet but there have been some..." He paused and sighed again. "Complications..." He handed the bundle to his page who straightened out his blue hat with the long green feather before opening the bundle and waiting for further instructions.

"The usurper Miraz has written us several threatening letters, absolutely _teaming _with threats peppered throughout them." The head knight wrinkled his nose up in disgust. "My page will pass out the letters so you can see for yourself...remember none of this information will be permitted to leave this room...anyone caught copying any of these official documents or else trying to pocket them, will be punished and stripped of their title."

The letters were passed down until they reached Edmund and Eustace at the end; they were inappropriate and vulgar without any attempt at courtly decency in them. Edmund found himself wanting to puke from sheer disgust-reading these threats, it wasn't at all hard to believe that they were from the same man who had kidnapped Susan all those years ago.

"Why don't we just open up the royal treasury, pay them, and get them off our backs?" Eustace suggested.

"I'm afraid that's not possible." The head knight explained, his cheeks sucking into a tight, angry stare. "They want blood, not money."

"Does this mean war?" One young knight across from Edmund inquired bravely, putting the question everyone was keeping inside their heads into words.

"Possibly." The head knight admitted. "Which is why we called this meeting." He pulled out another letter and handed it to the page. "There is one final bit of importation." His eyes filled with tears. "As you may or may not have noticed, one of our eldest and most honoured knights, Sir John, is not with us."

"I thought he was just not feeling well." Someone whispered.

"I thought he was visiting his aunt in Archenland." Another added.

"You're wrong, he's gone on honeymoon in Ettinsmoor."

"I thought his wife was dead, we had a funeral for her last year, didn't we?"

"That was his _mother_!"

"Really? She looked good!"

"Wasn't she ninety-seven?"

"That was his grandmother, stupid!"

"Isn't she dead?"

"Who are you calling stupid?"

"No, I saw her last week."

"Not you, idiot, him."

"Oh, you saw a ghost!"

"I did not!"

"Oh-all right, hey wait! Who are you calling idiot?"

"I'm telling you, she's dead."

"She most certainty is not."

"Shut up."

"_You_ shut up."

"I am not an idiot, you're an idiot!"

The head knight held up his palms. "Men, men, please!" He shook his head at them and rolled his eyes. "We are getting off the subject."

"I'm not an idiot." Someone mumbled one last time just for argument's sake.

"Shall I hand out the letter now?" The page asked.

The head knight nodded. "Yes, start with Sir Edmund and Eustace this time because they were the last ones before."

The page walked over to them, his silver-lined boots striking hard against the polished marble-and-oak floor as he placed the letter into Edmund's out-stretched hand.

"Miraz has taken Sir John prisoner," Edmund's eyebrows shot up and his forehead crinkled in confusion. "But he's too old to fight, if he was smart, Miraz would have taken someone able-bodied."

"Perhaps not." The head knight reminded him. "Remember that he wants the capable men in his army and he knows we care about getting Sir John out of there safely, it's blackmail."

"What should we do?" Edmund said, willing himself not to fiddle nervously with the crisp edges of the envelope in his hands.

"I propose this," The head knight coughed into his hand and cleared his throat before going on. "We have a midnight raid on Miraz's castle, rescue Sir John before they torture the poor man to death, spill as little blood as possible-remembering that are trying to _avoid_ a war, not start one-then, have some of our strongest men grab Miraz while he's sleeping and take him into custody." He stopped talking and let that sink in for a moment before taking a step more directly into the center of the meeting and going on. "We will send a calm, understanding, diplomatic letter back to his nephew seeing as he will be the rightful King of Telmar soon enough anyway. We will explain to Prince Caspian that we took his uncle out of self-defense, assure him that we mean none of them any harm and promise to release Miraz back to him after-or depending on his reaction, prior to-his coronation on the condition that he does not declare war on us nor attempt to force us into fighting for Telmar."

"We could sit in here having this discussion for years and a better plan, we will not be able to come up with." One of the higher-ranking squires declared. "As he has said, in the name of Aslan, so let us do."

As was customary, the knight to the far left held up his sword sheath. "So let us do."

The other knights and soldiers did the same. "So let us do." they echoed.

Eustace and Edmund glanced at each other for a moment, both having their own reasons for not wanting to fight but knowing there was no other way. For once, they had something in common. They were both afraid. For Edmund, it wasn't so much to save his own skin as it was keeping his promise to Lucy. He'd said he would come back for her no matter what. He'd promised and sworn it up and down. He gave her his word. If he died, his word would be shot into oblivion. Still, the chance of being killed in a raid were slimmer than that of being killed in a full-blown war. If they had a good plan and followed it, he would be able to return to Lucy in one piece.

Edmund shut his eyes tightly, inhaled deeply, and opened them again; holding out his sword sheath. "So let us do."

Eustace was rather dumbstruck by Edmund's out-right bravery. He noticed the Adam's apple in his throat bopping upwards as if he was holding back but his face gave away nothing. He held out his own sword sheath now. Better the last one in than a coward amongst the bravest men in all of Narnia, right? "So let us do."

Late that night, a team of griffins carried Edmund and Eustace in their claws towards Miraz's castle. It stood tall and gray, casting a black shadow over the courtyard the great smooth, batting wings of the griffins were taking them to. They swooped down and dropped the young men on the ground. There were four guards standing with their backs to them, completely unprepared. The griffins grabbed two of them and snatched them away while Edmund and Eustace had to hit the others with the hilt of their swords to knock them unconscious without killing them. Unfortunately for Eustace, his man didn't fall right away and Edmund had to take care of him in addition to his own man lest he get a blade shoved into his stomach.

"Be careful!" Edmund hissed sharply, not because he was cross but because he was fairly bubbling over with nervousness.

"Sorry." Eustace mouthed back.

"Okay," Edmund whispered, walking over towards the courtyard's main gate. "Help me get this open."

As they pulled at the leavers, spinning it to lift up the door, they were unaware that a fifth guard was watching them. He had been peeing onto the side of one of the stone walls hidden completely in the shadows. Rather than attack them on his own, he watched carefully to learn how many men were present and what exactly they were trying to do and where they might be from. He noticed the symbol of the Lion carved into the swords and shields of the two young men opening the gate and on the tunics and armor of the ones they were letting in. He also saw that they were not all human. There were also creatures with the lower body of a horse or a goat. And of course, there were the dwarfs and some beasts with a strangely intelligent gleam in their eyes which came through even in the darkness. Now the guard knew he and the Telmarine men he had at his own disposal couldn't take on all of the Narnian warriors on their own. He decided to creep up into the castle and alert Lord Miraz.

He's in charge, thought the guard-rushing through the corridors towards Miraz's bed chamber, he'll know what to do.

The head knight who had led the meeting earlier that day, along with five centaurs, three fauns, and seven soldiers set off to find the dungeons so they could locate and rescue Sir John. A large group of others, led by Edmund, were sent into the upper chambers of the castle to find Miraz. The remaining ones were to keep on the watch in case something should go wrong.

And it did indeed go wrong. Most of the men who were with Edmund, fell into a trap set by Miraz who had already been alerted of their arrival and were beaten unconscious or else run through with a sword. Edmund and a few others who managed to get away undetected by those guards, realizing something in their plans had gone amiss, dispersed out in different directions searching for an exit.

Edmund found his way onto a roof top from which he heard the bells Miraz set off from the highest towers to alert his soldiers that they must rise to attention and defend the castle. Balancing on the ridge-pole, he caught sight of a row of Telmarine men armed with cross bows; one of which was pointed right at Eustace. He couldn't call himself worthy of Lucy and let one of her own kin get shot and die; he flung himself down the roof like it was a child's play-slide and landed on the man aiming for Eustace. The arrow went off, shooting harmlessly into nothing but bricks and blackness.

"Edmund!" Eustace and two others near him shouted up.

Turning on his feet quickly, he saw the other guards with their crossbows now pointed right at him. He let out a slight yelp of surprise and dashed into the first doorway he could find. He slammed it shut just as the arrows flew and he slid onto the floor, landing on his back.

He knew he couldn't lie there for long. Soon, they'd fling the door back open and hunt him down like an animal. He forced himself up and ran along the sides of the small musty-smelling tower room, down six flights of stairs, into the main castle itself.

Before he could reach any doors leading outside, he came to a dead end. A hallway simply teaming with armed soldiers rushing by, ready to kill any non-Telmarine who came their way. Seeing no other way out, Edmund opened an ebony-coloured, oak-wood door he rightly assumed let into a comfortable chamber with a double bed and a hot, roaring fire.

Please let this be a guest room, Edmund prayed-hardly daring even to breathe as he closed and latched the door behind himself.

Keeping his hand on his sword, he walked over to the other side of the chamber where the only window was located. He wasn't stupid enough to try and jump from the height he knew he must be at but he did think that he might find some rope or cling to the sidings and make an escape that way.

"Oof!" He tripped over a wooden hairbrush that had been left out on the rug and banged right into a nightstand, smashing something that sounded like it was made out of porcelain.

Two figures shot up out of the bed. They were Telmarine girls, daughters of Miraz's wife's ladies-in-waiting. Although they were twins, they looked and acted nothing alike. All the same, both were nothing short of terrified to wake up and find a Narnian knight in their bedroom clinging onto the hilt of his sword.

Struggling to speak the little bit of Telmarine he knew as he backed up as close to the shadows and curtains as he could manage, Edmund blurted out, "I won't hurt you."

"You're darn right you won't!" Exclaimed the eldest twin angrily, turning her head and screaming, "Guards!"

The other twin quickly put her hand over her sister's mouth. "Hush, Jill."

The chamber door flew open and a guard poked his head in.

"What do you mean barging in here like this?" Demanded the twin who's mouth was not covered by her sister's fingers, glaring at the Guard.

"Sorry, milady." The guard left before he had a chance to see Edmund there, closing the door softly behind himself.

Jill finally squirmed free of her sister's grip. "Gwendolen, what are you thinking? He's _Narnian_! Or can't you tell?"

"He said he wouldn't hurt us." Gwendolen protested meekly. "Give him a chance to speak."

"Take one step closer to us and we'll let the guards get their hands on you." Jill threatened, more out of fear than true unkindness.

"Please," Edmund said softly, still speaking in his strongly accented Telmarine. "I need to get out of here, I need your help."

"We-" Gwendolen started before her sister cut her off.

"Why should we help you?" Jill demanded.

Because she spoke so sharp and quickly, it took Edmund's mind a few moments to translate. Then, when he finally did understand he whispered, "I made a promise."

"What kind of promise?" Gwendolen whispered, in a tone that sounded almost excited at this midnight adventure.

"To a girl back home." Edmund explained slowly, hoping he wasn't messing up the language too much. "I promised her I would come back for her."

At this, Gwendolen practically melted and even Jill's face softened a little. They were romantic young girls; they had dreams of loving and being loved some day and the idea of a foreign knight desperate to get back to the love of his life touched them deeply.

Over the following half-hour or so, Edmund told them about Lucy and how much he loved her and how they had met and how they had already been apart because of her over-bearing mother and his knight training.

Jill bit her lip while Gwendolen wept quietly into a silk handkerchief, blowing her nose every three seconds.

"We'll help you get out of here alive." They promised when he had finished his story.

"Thank you." Edmund said, pulling back the curtain slightly so he could look out the window.

His blood ran cold at what he saw. The Narnians who had been fighting all laying dead on the courtyard floor with dozens of arrows sticking out of their bodies and the gate closed tightly.

"No..." Edmund murmured weakly, suddenly feeling-and fighting-the urge to drop to his knees and collapse onto the rug.

Gwendolen started to sob into her handkerchief again. Jill closed her eyes tightly, she hated the sight of blood and death; two things the view was certainly not lacking in.

**AN: Please review!**


	35. A new danger is coming to Narnia

**AN: Okay just so you know, the contents of this chapter are pretty fast-paced and rather intense (Which, yes, if you're wondering, is one of the reasons this is rated T). Also, get ready to hate Miraz and/or Helen more than ever, just saying. Oh, and I'm sorry if it seems a little rushed in some places I just felt that it was a good pace for this chapter because of what it will lead up to later. It's kinda important and dragging it on, I think, would have been a mistake. **

The sun was rising over the corpse-filled courtyard as Gwendolen and Jill ushered Edmund (who wore a long black cloak covering his body, face, sword, and remaining armor) down the stone archways towards the little water-gate off to the side of the lowest group of gray pillars.

"Don't look at the dead bodies." Jill whispered, all but dropping the 's' at the end of 'bodies' knowing well that it was the letter easiest to be over-heard in a whisper.

"N-n-no w-w-worries of that..." Sobbed Gwendolen, her whole body shaking like it was in a giant earthquake as she spoke.

"Do stop blubbing, Gwendolen!" Jill hissed curtly. She didn't like thinking about all of the dead soldiers either but with the way her sister was carrying on, all in hysterics and what not, they would surely be caught before they could get Edmund out the gate.

If we'd known about this water-gate here, Thought Edmund sadly, if we hadn't been so ignorant of other entry ways...would all those soldiers be alive right now? Are any of them still alive? I don't hear any labored breathing, expect for Gwendolen's wails of course. What about before the main gate got closed? Did anyone get out? Is Eustace with them? Is he...dead?

He risked turning around half-way and glancing over at the dead bodies in the rising dawn in spite of Jill's warning not to do so. He wanted to see if he could spot any familiar faces. Who would he recognize? He squinted, all the bodies and faces seemed to blur together, he didn't have the time to attempt to identify them. Jill grabbed his right arm and practically shoved him into the open water-gate.

"If you follow the water thataway-" Jill pointed down the little quiet scream of water trickling lightly as it rolled passed them. "It will take you towards the Narnian canals."

Edmund nodded. "Thank you for your help." He fought the urge to embrace both girls, knowing it would be rather inappropriate and might startle them into calling out the guards. They were kind persons but they would scream if they thought he was trying to grab them, they were still Telmarines and he was still a Narnian after all. Not knowing what else to say or do, he started heading down the way Jill had pointed. Towards Narnia, towards home, towards tons of families that would learn that they'd lost someone last night without even the chance to say goodbye.

"I didn't know Narnians were so nice." Gwendolen whispered tearfully to her sister as soon as Edmund and his hooded shadow were out of sight. "Miraz always acts like they're bad or something...His wife does, too."

"_He _was good," Jill agreed, walking briskly back towards the castle, eager to get as far away from the courtyard of death as possible. "But how do we know about the others? Mightn't they be..."

"Oh!" Gwendolen gasped, looking very much like she was going to cry all over again.

"What is it now?" Huffed Jill, turning to face her sister with her hands on her hips.

"You don't suppose they were _all _like him?" Gwendolen whispered, daring to put her fear aside and take in one quick look at the dead bodies behind her. "With promises and lovers waiting for them back home?"

"I don't know." Jill admitted, her own eyes unwittingly getting a little wet now as she let her gaze fall on the two dead men and a slaughtered faun only a few feet away.

"Ew!" Gasped Gwendolen, sounding a little less hysterical now and more like her normal self. "Does that goaty thing have an extra white arm?"

"It's not attached to the goat." Jill told her, noticing the proportion was all wrong for that. "Look, it's clearly someone crushed under the monster thing."

"Oh my god." Gwendolen's eyes widened. "Did that finger just move?"

Jill's eyes widened, too. The finger _had_ moved. Whomever it was that the dead faun had landed on, was alive under there!

"He's alive!" Jill exclaimed as quickly and quietly as possible as she and her sister bent down and pulled the fair-haired boy out of there.

In the morning sunlight, the boy's brow crinkled as if he was reacting from a severe hit that had given him a headache before cracking his eyes open just a slit. He saw the two Telmarine girls and opened his mouth to cry out in surprise before Gwendolen covered it.

Jill leaned close to his face. "Don't shout, they'll hear you."

"We're going to try to help you." Gwendolen decided, slowly removing her hand. "You need to trust us."

"And if you try anything, we'll call the guards on you." Jill added quickly, still not certain Narnians could be trusted.

The boy nodded. He looked so pale and frightened that by this point Jill was starting to feel more like she was bullying him rather than trying to rescue him from amongst the corpses.

"What's your name?" Jill asked, speaking more gently now.

"Eustace." He whispered, finding his eyes locked with Jill's rather unexpectedly. "Eustace Scrubb."

"Don't worry, Eustace." Gwendolen said softly, helping her sister pull him up onto his feet. "Everything will be alright."

Meanwhile, Edmund had finally, after nearly an hour of hard running and fast-walking by turn, reached the edge of the Narnian canal. All things and circumstances considered, he couldn't help but think it was a fairly easy route to travel, if not a little longer than he would have liked.

He realized something else, too. This was the way Miraz would have probably gone when he brought poor beat-up, injured, pretty little Susan to the canal when he abandoned her there. It would have been so easy for him to smuggle her through that little water-gate and take her down this way. There weren't any houses along the path and he would have likely frightened her into coming quietly anyway.

The image of Miraz carrying her and dumping her in that little spot where Peter had found her, popped into Edmund's mind. It was a horrible vision; almost as bad as seeing all of the dead Narnians scattered along the courtyard. The poor frightened girl all bruised and sickly...Edmund shuddered. No, he wouldn't let himself think of that. It was over, that was all in the past. Susan was fine. Peter was the weak one now. Wasn't that a switch!

_Peter_!He thought, what if he's heard about the raid by now? What if he thinks I died, too? Oh, Aslan, _Lucy_! If Peter thinks I'm dead...she'll think...She'll feel like I lied to her...I promised her...I have get there...now...right now...can't my feet move any faster than this?

A few hours later, at Lord Pevensie's manor, Lucy was sitting at breakfast with her mother, A tired-looking Peter who hadn't slept very well the night before (He was still very ill and not all nights passed by smoothly), and Lord Pevensie who was sipping a glass of apple-juice as quietly as possible. As always, Susan was standing with the servants, keeping an eye on Peter in case he needed something.

"Did you hear the news?" Helen said suddenly.

Lucy realized she was talking to her but didn't give her full eye-contact, still angry about the day before yesterday when she had been slapped repeatedly just because she'd confessed that she loved Edmund. She hadn't told Peter or even Susan about it knowing they had their own problems. The smacks hadn't left any visible bruises and had only been a little red and smarted rather terribly, so they didn't have to find out about it.

"Simply awful." Helen went on, speaking highly as if she was giving a speech in front of a crowd of courtiers.

Lucy rolled her eyes. Anything short of perfection was 'simply awful' to her mother these days. It was probably something unimportant. Maybe those people she orders corsets from stopped selling. Or, Aslan forbid, Lord Pevensie finally found a boarder. Or maybe a stray non-talking cat had gotten into the pantry and drunken up half their milk again.

"I'm sure Digory Kirke must be _devastated_." Helen sighed, bringing a piece of scrambled egg to her lips.

Now Lucy looked at her. She couldn't help it. What was wrong with Digory? "What do you mean?"

"His grandson is dead." Helen said dryly in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

Lucy's whole face seemed to crumble. She was lying! She had to be! Helen always lied when she thought it would benefit her. This wasn't real, it couldn't be!

Peter choked on whatever it was he'd been trying to eat before Helen made her little announcement and started coughing uncontrollably. Susan rushed over to him and pounded him on the back until he could breathe freely again.

"There was some sort of raid the knights had last night." Helen explained pretend-gravely. "All of the unaccounted for knights were certainly murdered by the guards protecting the Telmarine's castle."

"No!" Lucy screamed out, pounding her fist onto the table until it throbbed, losing all her senses at once. "It's not true! It's a rumor! A rumor! He's-"

"I can prove it." Helen said, still calm as anything as she looked her daughter straight in the face. "Ask your Aunt Alberta why her son didn't come home last night. Ask her why he's never coming home. Your cousin died, too. In the same raid. The surviving knights reported it to the families this morning shortly before dawn. Alberta came around here bawling her eyes out."

Lucy, broken down, started sobbing at that. It couldn't be true...and yet...no...not Ed....no, he promised....he wasn't dead...he wasn't....poor Alberta...poor Digory...Oh, Dear Aslan, no!

Peter reached over and put his hand on her shoulder compassionately. Susan bent down and gave her a hug. Tears that were not from Lucy's eyes fell on her shoulders and her lap. They were crying, too.

"I'm so sorry, children." Lord Pevensie said kindly, feeling that his wife could have been a little more tactful in approaching the subject.

As if reading her husband's mind, Helen shrugged her shoulders and said, "Death is part of life. There was no one to break the news to me gently when my first husband died and I managed to live a full life, didn't I?"

That's because you have a heart of stone, Lucy thought bitterly, I don't know if you ever really loved father, or ever really loved anyone for that matter. You don't love your husband now, I _know _you don't. You don't look at him the way I looked at Ed, you just don't! You can't understand!

After breakfast was over and Peter was taken back upstairs, Lucy ran into a guest parlor, locked the doors behind her screaming mother who was ordering her to get over it and go attend to her lessons, threw herself into the couch, and cried herself to sleep.

She had a dream which started very much like the ones from before, with Aslan on his hill. But this time, there was no battle and no manor. This time, Lucy found she was resting in an open tent, looking up at the green hill. And standing next to Aslan, listening to all he said, was a dark-haired young man with his back turned to her. When the Lion had finished speaking to him, he turned around. It was Edmund. He was walking alongside Aslan, heading straight for her tent. She stood up and rushed towards them with her hands held out.

Lucy's eyes snapped back open and she gasped at nothing, struggling to catch her breath. He was alive; somehow after that dream she just knew it. He wasn't dead. He was coming back; just like he promised, he _was_.

In another part of the house, someone arrived at the door and for some reason, Lucy-leaving the guest parlor through the opposite way from which she had entered it, answered the knock. She didn't know why or how, but she just knew somehow that it was for her.

Sure enough, Edmund stood there. He was sweaty, hot, flustered, and breathless, panting in the doorway. "Lucy, I came as fast as I could...I would have been here sooner...but I had to make sure my grandfather...well you understand....I..."

Bursting into a fresh round of tears, Lucy threw herself into his arms and let him hold her close. He was alive. Her mother had been wrong and her own dream and instincts had been right. She listened to the sound of his heart beating like a drum in his chest for a few moments before lifting her head up and kissing his lips.

"What do you think you're doing?" Helen's voice behind them demanded. "And aren't you supposed to be dead?"

Lucy pulled away from him and turned to face her mother. "He's alive, mum, I told you so."

"Then stop crying and get to your lessons now." Helen pulled her out of the doorway and back into the main house.

"I'll see you later." Edmund said to Lucy.

"Don't count on it." Helen snapped, slamming the door in his face.

Lucy was furious. It was like her mother had _wanted _him to be dead and was angry with him for being alive! Well it didn't matter, she was going to be with him, no matter what. Even if she had to run away. _Could _she do that? She would be sad to leave Peter but he didn't really need her, he had Susan to look after him. Susan might miss her and Lord Pevensie had never been unkind towards her...Lucy's head was swimming now. She didn't know what would happen next in her life. All she knew was that she was coming to the end of something and the beginning of something else.

It was indeed the beginning of 'something else' in Telmar.

Prince Caspian was sitting at his desk, studying with his professor as he did every day. Dragging the scratchy quill along the cream-coloured scrolls he was always being forced to sign in-between lessons, when Miraz stormed in.

"Uncle," Caspian said, looking up over at Miraz. "Who were all those dead people scattered across the courtyard this morning?" He hadn't seen any of the fauns and centaurs because Miraz had ordered those bodies to be pitched away first and he hadn't seen any of the shields or armor because the guards had already stolen all of that as booty. Just a bunch of dead men...not exactly pleasant scene to wake up to.

"That is what I came to talk to you about, Caspian." Miraz said gravely, cracking his knuckles with the side of one of his golden rings as he spoke. "There is a bad race of people who wish to destroy us and they attacked our castle last night."

Caspian dropped the quill and gazed at his uncle aghast. "What? Why?"

"They are evil." Miraz sighed dramatically. "But worry not, I have drawn up a new law that will save us from them."

"A law?" Caspian echoed, standing up now. "But what-"

"A law that states on a certain day, every Telmarine will rise against these people and single-handedly kill them all." Miraz explained, taking a step closer to him. "It is the only way."

Caspian shook his head. He was a little afraid of these evil people attacking them but destroying an entire race because of a few crazed warriors was just wrong. He wouldn't sign; Miraz couldn't pass a law this extreme without the crowned prince signing off of it. Not on something this big. The people-whomever they were-would not be all killed. He thought of the women and the children, all of the innocent ones who had likely never done anything wrong.

"Caspian, listen to me." Miraz was prepared for this. He grabbed onto his nephew's shoulders and gave him a good shake. "We _have_ to destroy these people."

"No, uncle, it is wrong." He said firmly.

"But Caspian, they're the ones that plotted your father's assassination. _All_ of them. They're the ones who had someone sneak in and poison your father's goblet. The women and children...they were all in on it, too." That ought to work!

"No..." Caspian mumbled, suddenly feeling rather weak in the knees and having to lean against the fireplace as the world swirled around and around in front of his eyes. "It couldn't..."

"Tell you what, to be fair, the law will state that no one born after your father was killed will be put to death." Miraz said in a pretend-reasonable voice.

Caspian didn't want to admit it, but he was weakening. Those people-that race he didn't know-had no real image in his mind. And if they'd killed his father....and the woman and children plotted as well...what sort of monsters were they? Still, the innocent must be protected.

"I want no harm to come to those saved, Uncle Miraz." Caspian said sternly.

"Of course not." Miraz promised, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, knowing he was about to get what he wanted. "That would be horribly unjust."

Caspian sighed. "They _are_ a threat to us, right? I mean, it's not just revenge, is it?"

Miraz shook his head. "They're a very dangerous threat to us."

Blinking back the tears forming in his eyes at having to make such a weighty decision and having his father's memory brought back up again, Caspian gulped, "I'll sign."

**AN: Please review!**


	36. Plans being made

**AN: As you may or may not have noticed, I am speeding up the pacing of the story a bit. I think I know what I'm doing so don't worry, LOL. **

Lord Pevensie inhaled deeply and put his hand to his heart. The notice he held in his cold-sweat drenched hand had been sent out from Cair Paravel to the head of every household in all of Narnia. It was regarding a new state of emergency that had come in the from of a new Telmarine law. The Usurper Miraz and his nephew, Prince Caspian, had passed a law that stated that all Telmarines were to rise up and destroy the Narnians on a date only a few weeks away.

He couldn't breathe. He had seen terrible things in his life, but nothing like this. The Narnian army wouldn't be strong enough to fight them, not after the hard winter and the losses the raid had resulted in. The head knight had been, well, be_head_ed and had been one of those to lose their lives in the castle, but not before seeing the Sir John he had come to rescue laying on the stone floor of the dungeon with a clean slash across his throat. He had been dead for hours, even if they planned the raid for earlier that night, they would have been too late. By some miracle a few knights involved had survived including Digory's grandson who claimed that he received help from a source he would not reveal.

"_Let them think it was some sort of magic, if they wish to_." He had written to Lucy in a letter addressed to Susan. "_But no one else is to know of it, I wouldn't want to put them in danger_."

Still, so many other lives had been taken. They weren't strong enough to handle an attack like the one the Telmarines would all launch on them. They could run away, but where would they go? Who would hide an entire country's worth of people, talking beasts, fauns, and centaurs? Who would defend them?

"Aslan will come." Some said, closing their eyes and twisting their faces into calm expressions. "Rely on the Lion, he will save us."

Others, not so optimistic, were dressed in pale, tan-coloured sackcloth and covered with white ashes, bawling their eyes out. "Oh, why must the innocent suffer?"

Lord Pevensie was doing neither. He was sinking into his chair. His head ached. His heart thumped. Then stopped beating for a moment as if killing itself. After, it changed its mind and came back to life. Sara gave up, she left them. Lord Pevensie couldn't do that to his family. It was true that he had made a mistake. He was with a wife he had learned to admit to himself that he did not-could not-love, he had debts, he had a skittish daughter, a gravely ill son, and a young stepdaughter only beginning life's bitter journey. He couldn't let them down, he'd made his bed-he couldn't blame it all on fate, he had to take some reasonability for it on his own-now, in Narnia's darkest hour, he must lie in it.

"Your lordship?" Tumnus said meekly, placing a silver tea tray down on the little table beside his master.

"Narnia is ruined." Lord Pevensie said gravely, propping his arm up on its elbow and wrapping his palm around his forehead. "I have the children to think of, and I haven't the strength to start again."

"My lord," Said Tumnus softly, daring to place a caring hand on his master's shoulder for the first time in many years.

"Oh, Mister Tumnus," Sighed Lord Pevensie, somewhat comforted by this unexpected gesture. "You've been a good servant all your days. Now, as we come to an end-"

"You don't mean to..." Tumnus voice trailed off and he removed his hand with a shudder of horror. "To do what Lady Sara...what she...how she...how she left us?"

"No." Lord Pevensie whispered. "No fear of that. I wont do anything, I wont even drink wine-I'm going to be in my full senses when the Telmarines come and kill us all."

"Perhaps the children could be taken to Archenland for safety." Tumnus suggested.

"I've thought of that already." Lord Pevensie said wearily, playing with the wedding band on his finger, thinking both of his beloved first wife and the rather bothersome second wife he'd taken in her place. "But that cannot be, they are a small country and if a lord was to hide his children there, others would follow his example until..."

Tumnus nodded, he understood. Narnian children being hidden there would put that country in danger from Telmar and Lord Pevensie wouldn't risk it. He wouldn't put his own children's lives ahead of that of the children of another country, if Narnians did that, did that really make them any better than the Telmarines were?

Later, Lucy was sitting in Peter's room with a needle and thread while he instructed her in how to embroider a border of green ivy vines on a table cloth. She had heard about the Telmarines that were going to kill them but was trying to remain calm. No, actually, she was trying to think of a plan. They couldn't just let the Telmarines win but thinking of Edmund at war...especially after the raid...no, there wouldn't actually be a war...they couldn't even afford one. They were helpless. Edmund had very nearly told her so himself, not bothering with the knight's code and secret information now because none of it was really secret anymore. Everything had been leaked and every Narnian in the country was in full panic. But what could she do? She was only just turning fifteen now and she didn't really have any power along with the nobility her mother had struggled to secure for them. It seemed silly now. The beggars were no worse nor better off than they were in this case. All of them were marked for death. It wasn't known who would be slaughtered first. It could be the richest man or it could be the poorest or it could be anyone in-between.

Peter, still ill and rather weak-chested, took a few raspy breaths and told Lucy to lift the thread up more so that the stitches came closer together.

"Oh, what _does_ it matter!" Lucy exclaimed, unable to keep calm any longer as she shoved the unfinished table-cloth off her lap and onto the floor.

"I did think better of that Prince than this." Peter admitted sort of quietly. "I've never really known him but I never thought he'd be as bad as his uncle from what I'd heard, I guess I was wrong."

Susan, who had also been in the room folding some of Peter's tunics and putting them away, looked up now. "I thought better of him, too."

She was remembering the letter he'd sent right after the quarantine and the glass rose and his reasonably kind-sounding voice. And how he was as a child when they'd played together in the castle that time. Somehow, she knew-just knew-he hadn't come up with the idea to kill the Narnians on his own. Having studied books of law (Some of them being the dull selections she would read to Peter at night) she realized it was even possible that Prince Caspian might not even know the name of the country he was destroying. If he'd put all of the duty to his uncle after signing it, he wouldn't even need to know much about it for Miraz to accomplish his evil deed.

"I wish the Narnians would agree to send someone to reason with him." Tumnus said, entering the room as he spoke, having heard what they'd just been talking about. "If he's not a monster like his uncle, surely-"

"Edmund says none of the knights are willing to go." Lucy explained, unable to blink back the tears forming in her eyes. "They are all too frightened and angry."

"I don't think it should be a knight." Tumnus said, looking over at Susan. "Forgive me for saying this, but it should be a Narnian he likes. He wouldn't be likely to destroy something he cares about."

Susan's eyes widened. "You can't mean-just because he sent me that glass rose-" She shook her head back and forth rapidly. "This isn't a task for a nursemaid."

Peter blinked in confusion and pushed himself up a little in the bed. "Does anyone what to explain to me what they're talking about? What glass rose?"

"It's a long story, Peter." Susan said curtly, folding her arms across her chest. "But it doesn't matter because it isn't as if I could just stroll over to Telmar and-"

"Aren't they having a feast at the Telmarine boarder a couple of nights from now?" Tumnus pointed out boldly, looking behind him and shutting the door in case they were being eavesdropped on. "I heard something of the sort, if the prince is there, Susan could-"

"Why would he listen to Su?" Peter huffed, feeling rather left out and frustrated by this point.

"Because he likes her." Tumnus raised an eyebrow at Susan. "Isn't that right?"

"It's not..." Susan felt her face flush scarlet.

"What about the letter?" Tumnus asked.

"How did you find out about that?" Susan demanded, spinning around and pointing at the faun accusingly.

"Again, forgive me, but I found it and read it a while back." Tumnus looked down at his goat-hooves in a humbled manner.

"Susan, can you show me that letter?" Peter asked.

Susan rolled her eyes and went to her room to get it. When she returned, she thrust it into Peter's hand. "Here."

"You don't mind, right?" Peter double checked as he unfolded the letter and brought it close to his eyes to read it in the dark bed chamber.

"It doesn't matter." Susan said, shooting Tumnus a slight glare.

Peter looked up from the letter. "He doesn't seem like a monster on paper at least."

"He's not..." Susan defended him. "It's always been Miraz."

"Which is why if you would only go and speak to him..." Tumnus protested.

"He doesn't even know my name!" Susan exclaimed, taking the letter back from Peter and folding it up again. "What am I supposed to do? Just march to that feast uninvited, in one of my plain black frocks, and act as though I'm someone who matters there? And what am I supposed to say? 'Please don't kill me and my people'?"

Peter cringed inwardly. He hated to admit it, but _both_ Susan and Tumnus were right. Someone needed to talk to Caspian and save the Narnians from being brutally murdered but to the prince Susan didn't even have a name. Also, he, being her brother, was worried about her being in the same feasting hall as Miraz. At their father's wedding, she had been nothing short of terrified. Still, he had to admit he'd seen a great amount of emotional growth in Susan since then. She was stronger now, braver. She couldn't be broken as easily. In his heart, he knew she could do it, she could save them all. They just needed a better plan. Susan couldn't just show up and throw herself at the prince's feet begging for mercy, it would be a pointless endeavor.

"Susan," Peter said softly, blinking back a few tears, calling her closer to the bedside. "I have an idea."

She walked over to him and he took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Peter..."

"Listen, Tumnus is right, you'll have to go and reason with him." He held up his other hand signaling for her to hear him out before protesting. "But here's what you'll have to do." He took a deep breath. "Go there, don't tell him who you are, just make him listen to you, and tell him that someone means to kill you and all of your race. Make him promise that he and his men will not rise up against us, make him swear it. A vow countering against the law. At the very least, it will buy the Narnians some time to get stronger."

That was one of the most absurd plans Susan had ever heard of. It was filled with so many flaws that she'd stopped trying to count and list them. She simply pointed out the most obvious one first.

"Peter, he's going to recognize me. If he remembered me after all that time anyway, he's going to take one look at my face and say, 'ah, Narnian girl from the window'."

Peter bit his lip and turned his eyes up towards the celing in deep thought for a moment. "That could be a problem. Miraz might recognize you, too."

"And grab her and take her away before she's had a chance to speak with the prince on our behalf as likely as not." Tumnus agreed, dejectedly. "The horrid excuse for a man!"

Peter didn't answer Tumnus right away. He seemed to be examining Susan's face very closely. "Supposing she wore a mask." He lifted one hand to her forehead where the hairline started. "One that reached from here," He put a finger from his other hand just above the bridge of her nose. "To here."

"Master Peter, that's brilliant!" Tumnus exclaimed happily, nearly jumping for joy. "It wont be too out of place either because she'll be posing as foreign nobility and they'll just assume wearing masks is the custom from whatever kingdom she's arrived from."

Lucy smiled now, too. "But it's not the custom in Narnia."

"Exactly!" Tumnus cried out, pumping his fist in the air. "They'll never suspect they're making a peace treaty with us until it's far too late."

"I have my doubts though, I have to admit." Peter said grimly. "With the power of the law and all that, but it is our only hope."

Susan promptly burst into tears and threw herself into her brother's arms. "Oh, Peter, I can't do this!"

"Shh..." He said, patting his sister's back gently. "I know you can do this, you're so much stronger than you think, Susan." He started to cry along with her now. "So much stronger even than I've let you believe. I only ever wanted to protect you but now this is something you have to do without me."

"I'm scared." Susan sobbed.

"I know..." Peter tightened his grip on her just slightly and in a choked up voice added, "I'm scared, too."

When they finally pulled away from each other, Susan looked down at her plain black frock and shuddered. What sort of foreign nobility dressed like a nursemaid and wore a mask? Surely she'd be found out and...she didn't even what to think about it! If she failed, it wasn't only her own life in danger, she would have failed all of Narnia.

"I-I-I have nothing to wear." She murmured, wiping her wet eyes with the back of her wrist as she spoke.

Tumnus and Peter glanced at each other, neither knowing what to say to that.

Lucy stood up from her chair, a new thought dawning on her. "I have an idea."

Minutes later, Lucy ran down the cobblestone street leading to Digory's house. She arrived in the doorway completely out of breath and half-way out of her mind as well.

"Ed! Edmund!"

"What is it, Lu?" He asked gently. "Did your mother say something about you getting married again?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing like that..." she grabbed onto his hand. "Come on, I need to see that trunk in your attic. It's urgent."

Although not quite sure what it was she wanted, Edmund was willing to help, he led her up the stairs carefully holding onto the back of her waist tightly so that she didn't fall backwards or through any of the rotten steps. It made the trip up there a little more slow-going than Lucy liked but she was grateful for it all the same. When they finally reached the top, she pulled away from Edmund and ran over to the chest where she had found the golden dress nearly five year ago.

_Please still be here, _She thought desperately-unlatching the top of trunk and flinging it open. She breathed a sigh of deep relief when her fingers tightened around the golden fabric and pulled it out.

"Can I borrow this?" Lucy begged, looking pleadingly at Edmund. "It's really important."

Edmund seemed a little taken back but he shrugged his shoulders and said she was welcome to it anyway. "It'll look good on you."

"It's not for me." Lucy explained quickly. "It's for Susan." In hushed tones she filled him in on the plan Peter and Tumnus had come up with for saving Narnia.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Edmund whispered doubtfully.

Lucy shook her head. "No, but Peter's right, Edmund. What other way is there?"

Edmund lowered his voice even more. "If she needs a pair of sippers and a mask, I think I can talk Digory into loaning me some of grandmother's old things if Susan promises to take good care of them and return them when the feast is over."

Lucy threw her arms around him. "Oh, thank you!" She didn't let go when she was finished thanking him. She just wanted to cling to him for as long as possible.

"Lucy, sweetheart," Edmund said tenderly, slipping his arms around her waist. "Do you have any part in the plan?"

Lucy shook her head. "I don't think so. Just getting Susan ready I guess. It's her night to save Narnia, not mine."

"I was thinking about something." Edmund confided in her. "Please don't freak out, but I was thinking we should get married."

Lucy was stunned, not having seen that coming but she still didn't let go of him. "We're a little young for that, aren't we?"

"I know." Edmund admitted. "It's just...I mean, we're going to eventually anyway, and with your mother being the way she is and Narnia falling to bits..."

Lucy did pull away from him now so she could look him in the eye. "But where would we live?"

"Knights can get housing just about anywhere in Narnia, Lucy." Edmund told her, sounding like he'd really given the matter a great deal of thought. "And if your stepsister fails to save Narnia, if Caspian doesn't listen to her, we'd be doomed no matter what. Whether or not we were husband and wife."

"I'll think about it." Lucy promised him. "Can you give me a couple of days, just until the feast so we can get Susan ready? Then, I'll give you my answer."

Edmund nodded. "If the answer is yes, meet me in the back meadow after you send Susan off, alright?"

"Yes." Lucy said so quietly it was almost inaudible, her word meaning more than Edmund realized at the moment.

When Lucy arrived back at the manor and dashed up to Peter's bed chamber with the golden dress crumbled under her arm, she shut the door behind her and unfolded it to show them.

"It's beautiful." Susan had to admit. She smiled shyly. "But it's a little old-fashioned and needs to be taken in in some places, we can't let a tailor in on this...what are we going to do?"

"Let me see it." Peter said, taking the dress out of his sister and stepsister's arms and examining it closely.

"I could tuck the big parts in..." Susan came up with.

Peter rolled his eyes. "You most certainly will not!"

"Then how-"

"I'm going to fix it for you." Peter decided.

**AN: Please review and tell me what you thought! **


	37. The night of the feast part one

**AN: Hope you enjoy the chapter. **

Shortly before the night of the feast at the Telmarine border finally arrived, Peter finished working on the golden dress. He had taken in the waist so that it wouldn't hang too loosely and had altered the old-fashioned train into something a little more modern and less like something one of Edmund's great great grandmothers probably wore at their wedding. It was something of a rush job and some of the edges had been left a little raw but it was truly impressive all the same.

On the night of the feast, Susan changed out of her plain black frock and slipped on an embroidered, satin undershirt for the first time since Peter had fallen ill and she had become a nursemaid. Then she slid on the dress, feeling the soft curtain of gold falling over her for a moment before she pulled it all the way down and smoothed it out. She didn't dare look in the mirror. She was a little too afraid of what she might see. Would the beauty that had she had always had forced upon her be there to greet her after so long or had being a nursemaid finally taken its toll? She wasn't even sure what it was she _wanted_ to see. Part of her longed, as it always had, to look for once in her life like an ordinary girl-not something to be gaped at but another part of her was nervous about the desired change. Would the prince still listen to her if she was plain-looking? Or would being beautiful finally have an advantage?

Continuing to avoid looking at her reflection, Susan reached for the mask and slippers Edmund had loaned her. The slippers were copper-coloured and made of soft felt and leather; it had two fake-gold beads hanging off of lacy white woven threads in the front like moccasins. They were a mite too big (Edmund's grandmother must have had larger feet than she did) but she took scraps of cloth that Peter hadn't been able to re-use on the dress when he'd taken it in and used them to stuff the shoes so that they wouldn't fall off. Next, the mask-which was white-gold with little pearls and crystals along the edges. It was the perfect size, from the start of her hairline all the way to the bridge of her nose, covering at least half of her cheeks as well. Now what? She had it all on now, better go see what the others thought.

Lucy and Tumnus were already in Peter's bed chamber standing around waiting for her to arrive. When the door cracked open and they caught their first glimpse of her, they were so stunned that they nearly forgot to breathe. They had fully expected the old pre-nursemaid Susan to stroll in looking no more striking than usual-the sort of beauty they had once been used to; but the girl they were thinking of was not the one who entered the room. The young woman who stood before them dressed up for the feast was like no one they had never seen before. Elegant, softly-curling silky dark locks framed a sugar-white face hidden behind a glittering mask catching every bit of light available in the closed-curtained chamber. Her chin wasn't trembling with fear, it stood still and proud as if she really _was_ a foreign nobility on a mission and her lips pursed out apathetically as if waiting for a signal before showing any sign of emotion.

"She looks like a _queen_." Lucy sighed dreamily, quickly forgetting that her stepsister disliked being complimented on her looks.

"She looks like a fairy or an angel." Tumnus added, unable to believe this was the same little girl he had tutored in music and philosophy nearly all her life.

Peter was the last to speak. Finally, in a soft whisper, he uttered, "She looks like mother."

A single tear escaped from Susan's right eye and dripped out the side of her mask. "No I don't." She spoke in English because it was the language they told her to speak to Caspian in so he didn't suspect she was Narnian. Even though Narnians had descended from Englishmen, most Telmarines were not aware of that since many people from the areas around Ettinsmoor and Archenland spoke it, too.

Peter called her over to his bedside. "You do look like her, it's true, you needn't deny it; But you are stronger than she was, Susan. You wont give up, I've never been so proud of you."

More tears slid out the bottom of her mask now as she leaned close to him and he hugged her tightly. A sob escaped. She couldn't hold off anymore, she was still terrified. Not only of herself and her own insecurities, but also of so much more. She hated the idea of failing Narnia; yet, it was the thought of failing her brother-failing him the same way her mother had-that scared her. What if she wasn't strong enough to keep on keeping her word? What if she became nothing more than a liar? What if Narnia didn't escape the Telmarine attack? Would she feel like ending it all? Was she really as strong as he believed? What if Caspian didn't want to listen to her? What if Miraz...oh, Aslan, she couldn't think of that now, she had to be brave. She had to do this.

"I have something for you." Peter told her, pulling away and reaching for a small bundle had hidden under one of his pillows. He put his fingertips to it and unwrapped it slowly, revealing Maugrim's collar-wreath. "Consider it a finishing touch." Flipping it over so that the points faced upwards, he placed the glittering silver-and-gold circlet on her head like a crown. "Perfect."

"Oh!" Exclaimed Tumnus and Lucy at the same time. Maugrim had been right after all; the collar had come in handy.

"I think you'll have to look at yourself now." Peter lifted his chin and motioned over at the mirror on the other side of the room.

Susan took a deep breath and peered into the looking-glass. A beautiful, stately lady, dressed like royalty with blue eyes which were somehow enhanced by the garland resting upon her head, stared back at her. She was still beautiful but there was something different about this girl. She didn't really look like the frightened child Peter had rescued from the canal or the bitter young lass whom he had tutored and looked after-teaching her all the ways of the world without forcing her to step into it, until now. This was someone new. When exactly this new person had come into existence, Susan wasn't sure, all she knew was that the new lady was here now. She was here now and it was up to her to save Narnia.

Still, she needed one little bit of reassurance; Susan reached up and touched the little scar Maugrim had left her with. It was still there, her one and only beloved flaw. Right in the middle of the top of the mask and one little loose diamond hanging off of the wreath. Ever so gently, she reached up with her pinky finger and stroked it slowly as if caressing a tiny newborn kitten. She was ready now. Ready to face the Telmarines. Ready to face her fellow Narnians. Ready to face Prince Caspian. Ready to face Miraz himself if she had to-she thought although she shuddered inwardly remembering what he had done to her. Ready even, she decided, to face herself-the one she had always had the hardest time forgiving.

"You'll only have to walk as far as _'The Lion's Den'_." Peter told his sister now. "There'll be a carriage waiting for you there. Tumnus has arranged it all."

Susan nodded, her voice felt caught up in her throat and she suddenly wasn't sure if she could make herself speak at all, never mind tell the Telmarine prince-in English no less-of the evil that was going to be brought upon her people. She felt like she was on a child's play-ride going up and down. One moment, she felt strong and brave-knowing at last that she could do this. The next, she wanted to cry even though she still _felt_ sort of brave anyhow.

"I say, Lady Lucy, what is it?" Tumnus asked, turning to her suddenly remembering that Susan was not the only young lady in the room. "You look so distant."

As it was, Lucy was thinking about what Edmund had asked her to do. Meet him in the back meadow if the answer to his proposal was yes. She already knew exactly what her answer would be, she had known since the first, she simply had had to put it out of her mind for a while in order to work on the plan for saving Narnia with the others. Now it was almost over; she might have figured that Susan was independent enough to get ready on her own-she had never even in her most helpless years been _that _kind of lady but being there for moral support was important, too.

"Nothing, Tumnus." Lucy said quickly, deciding to let him deal with one problem at a time. She thought of telling Peter what she planned to do as soon as Susan left but decided against that as well. There would be time for that later, when Narnia was out of danger, now she would have to keep that little nugget of information to herself. In this Narnian, twilight-lit evening full of secrets, she would have one of her own. Besides, the less people who knew about, the less people who could accidentally tell her mother who would surely put a stop to it at once.

Both Tumnus and Peter were sure there really _was _something on her mind but let it slide for the moment, managing to convince themselves that it might just be nervousness over their plan that was making her so quiet and fidgety as she stood in the corner of the chamber, slipping into the shadows just as Susan stepped out from them.

Not bothering to worry about wrinkling her dress, Susan hugged each one of them goodbye. She embraced Lucy last and told her that they were switching rolls in life only for that one night.

"When the morning dawns," She whispered softly, so low that only Lucy could hear her even though the other two were still in close ear-shot. "I'll be the nursemaid again and you'll be back to being the lady of the house."

Maybe not, Lucy thought, maybe when morning dawns you'll be a heroine admired and loved by everyone in all of Narnia and I'll be the wife of the younger scholarly swordsman.

"It's a good thing you don't lisp on your Ws anymore, isn't it Su?" Peter teased with a faint twinkle in his eye as if trying to reassure his sister-and himself for that matter-that everything was going to be alright in the end.

Susan shook her head and gave him a half-smile. "Peter Pevensie!"

Then she turned to leave, taking on last look over her left shoulder at the three sweet, encouraging faces peering back at her; eager to hold on to her and keep her safe but loving enough to know that they had to let her go now.

Peter thought, as he caught one last glimpse of his sister before she vanished from the doorway, that if he was still feeling well, he might like to draw a scene like this. A drawing of the new Susan, a reflection of their mother with the courage to mold that image into whatever she wanted it to be-whatever she needed it to be. The dress would be drawn with sun-coloured pencils and the face blurred and smudged, half-hidden in the doorway to symbolize the mask she wore. There would be shadows but these would be her friends, not the demons that had clung to her for so long.

When she was gone, Lucy walked out of the chamber, too. She knew what she had to do now. Crawling along behind at a snail pace, she noticed Helen sitting in a chair with her eyes closed, snoring and breathing heavily in her sleep. Susan had crept by her without notice but Lucy tripped over a half-packed suitcase that rested at her mother's feet and woke her up by mistake.

"Lucy!" Helen scolded irritably, sitting up straighter in the chair as she glared at her daughter. "I swear, it's like you were born with two left feet sometimes."

"Sorry." Lucy muttered, trying to keep on walking passed her.

"Where are you going?" Helen demanded.

"Um..." It wasn't as if she could simply say, 'Well, mum, you remember that boy you don't like? The one who taught me sword fighting and ripped open my dress and wrote me all those secret letters, the ones addressed to Susan that I never told you about? Digory's grandson? No? Well anyway, I'm going to meet him in the back meadow and tell him that I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I probably wont be back before dark, alright?' She had to think of something but being a very honest girl by nature made coming up with lies and excuses sort of difficult, especially having to do so off the top of her head. "I just need to...uh..." She stammered and pointed randomly down one end of the hallway. "Go there...I, um...need to...do...a thing..."

Helen shook her head. "Never mind that now, whatever it is. I have to remind you of something that is going to save our lives, it's very important so listen up."

Lucy rolled her eyes and crinkled her forehead. What in the world was her mother going on about now? Did she have a plan to save the Narnians, too? That didn't seem like Helen at all. Had she suddenly had something of a change of heart?

"Remember, child, You were young, only perhaps eight or nine so perhaps you don't recall, we came from Ettinsmoor. We are not true Narnians, they wont kill us, only your stepfather and stepbrother and probably your stepsister, too."

Now that sounded more like the mother Lucy had come to know as her own as of late. Cruel and cold and not caring about anyone besides herself. Hadn't she snatched at her claim to Narnian citizenship when it was to her advantage? Now she clung to the fact that she was from Ettinsmoor in order to save her own skin, not caring even what happened to her own husband and stepchildren.

If I hadn't been in Ettinsmoor with her, Lucy realized-not without a ball of anger forming in the pit of her stomach, she wouldn't have even mentioned this to me. She wouldn't have bothered with me at all, not concerned about whether or not I live or die.

"If we start packing tonight, maybe we can leave in a few days...get ourselves to safety before the Telmarines come...let me think, I could take a few of those gold candle holders and sell them...technically those are part of Susan's dowry but it wont do her any good when she's dead and I'm sure we could sell them for about..." She did some calculations in her head and then got confused, counted on her fingers and sighed deeply. "I'll work that out later, I suppose. In the meantime, you should pack some dresses, Lucy. And a cape, it might be cold." She paused and looked down at the wedding band on her ring finger. "I could sell this, too."

Completely disgusted by her mother's latest display of intense selfishness, Lucy clenched her jaw, swallowed and finally came up with an excuse. "I'm going out to gather up some of the flowers in the meadow before it's too late."

Helen wrinkled up her nose. "Flowers?"

"Please?" Lucy forced her expression to soften a little. "If we must go, I'll take some with me to remember this place by." What she was really thinking was that if Edmund hadn't proposed, she would have said over her dead body would she leave Peter, Susan, Tumnus, and Lord Pevensie in such a heartless way.

"We'll have plenty of things with us." Helen told her sharply, waving off her request.

"But you're going to_ sell _those." Lucy protested, tossing her head up a little, hoping it made her look somewhat like her mother for a moment so that Helen might let her go.

"The stupid weeds will just die." Helen huffed, unmoved.

"Mum, please!" Lucy pleaded with her hands pressed together.

"Five minutes." Helen said finally, getting tired of arguing with her daughter and wanting her to get to work packing already. "And be sure you don't do something stupid like picking up a pile of poisoned ivy in the dark as likely as not."

Lucy nodded. She thought of saying, "I'll be right back." but she didn't, knowing that wasn't at all true. She quickly rushed away down the stairs and out the back door, heading for the meadow.

Meanwhile, Edmund stood-with only the talking horse, Phillip, for company (the knight he used to stick by had been killed in the raid and he had become something of a companion for Edmund as of lately)-in one of the meadows small clearings. The sun had set, purple had turned to black, little stars shone brightly. The crickets came out and so did the fireflies buzzing all around the near-by trees.

Edmund blinked back tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He had known this might happen but he had hoped it wouldn't. Susan was probably already on the way to that feast with the Telmarines now and Lucy was probably on her way to bed-she wasn't coming. Her answer was no.

He turned to mount Phillip and ride back to his grandfather's home. "She's not coming, let's go back."

"I'm sorry, Sir Edmund." Phillip hung his head sympathetically.

Edmund stuck his foot in the stirrup. "So am I."

**AN: What will happen next? You'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out; in the meantime, please review!**


	38. The night of the feast part two

Just as Edmund was about to pull himself all the way up onto Phillip's back and throw his leg over to the other side, the horse let out a whinny that might have been a equine version of a little gasp and his dark, pond-coloured right eye flickered over to something a little ways off.

What's the darn horse spooked of now? Edmund wondered grumpily-rather cross at being interrupted before he was finished feeling sorry for himself.

Turning his head around slightly, straining his eyes and neck to look over at whatever it was Phillip was gaping at, he saw a small, pale figure making its way over towards them. The figure came closer and he caught sight of the shape of a dress fluttering in and from between the high grass blades as it worked its way over to the clearing. It wasn't an it, it was a girl. It was Lucy! She'd come after all! Did this mean...? Was her answer yes after all?

"Lucy, you came!" He exclaimed happily, attempting to rush over and embrace her for sheer joy but falling flat on his face in the process because his foot was still in the stirrup.

Phillip choked back a laugh by making a strangled-sounding noise that was sort of like a soft whinny but rougher and a little more wild in nature come out of his throat. He couldn't help it; the situation _was_ rather funny!

"Edmund, are you alright?" Lucy rushed over and got his foot out of where it was stuck before helping him to his feet.

"That depends," Edmund gave her a small-half smile while trying to spit out a couple of grass-clumps that he had partly swallowed by mistake. "Does this mean your answer is yes?"

Lucy looked at him, grinning shyly and nodding ever so slightly.

Edmund's half-smile turned into a full one. "Then I'm better than alright." He leaned forward and kissed her.

"What now?" Lucy wondered aloud when he had finally pulled away from her.

"There is an elderly centaur in the village area only a little ways from here, I know he can perform marriages." Edmund suggested, looking a little ashamed that he hadn't anything better to offer. "It wouldn't be anything big and the only witnesses would probably be those elves and dwarfs whom he employs to cook and clean for him-if you wouldn't mind something like that."

Lucy thought it over. She didn't much mind having a small wedding but she couldn't help but feel a slight pang of sadness that Peter, Susan, and Tumnus couldn't be there. She thought even that it might have been nice for Lord Pevensie to give her away seeing as she hadn't a real father to do so; on the other hand though, Susan was the beautiful beloved one. Whenever the time came for her to marry, she could be given away and fawned over like a proper bride; Lucy herself, though it had been many years now, never forgot completely that she was only a beggar from Ettinsmoor. She could put on a clean dress and comb her hair but under it all, she decided, she was still very much the same.

If anything, Lucy thought, I am very lucky that I have gotten a marriage proposal at all. Never mind, one who loves me and I love in return. He may not be very wealthy but he still had his pick of ladies, I'm sure. He's a knight and he is rather nice to look at. But he choose me, so what does it matter where and how we're married? We're going to be happy together. What else is there really?

"We should go to that centaur, then." Lucy said as he helped her onto Phillip's back behind him.

"Are you sure you're happy?" Edmund asked nervously, twisting his neck to look back at her.

"I have never been happier in my whole life." Lucy assured him, leaning forward just slightly to rest the top of her head on his upper back for a short moment.

"I just-" Edmund sighed deeply and shook his head. "I wish I had more to offer you."

"Ed, have you already forgotten how I looked when you first saw me?" Lucy cocked an eyebrow up at him in a rather challenging sort of fashion.

Edmund laughed. "How could I forget? You smiled right at me."

"I don't mean the smile." Lucy told him almost-sternly, recalling her cold-pinched, hungry, dirt-smudged face and her crummy beggar's brat dress.

"That's all I saw." Edmund shrugged. He didn't care if she had dirt on her face or tangles in her hair, he loved her because of who she was. He had liked her from the start.

She remembered how he had winked at her, there was no pity nor any disgust in that wink-just a friendly gesture; she could believe that.

About twenty-five minutes later, Edmund and Lucy stood in the front entrance way of the centaur's small, candle-lit cottage as he stood in front of them with an open book of Narnian law. A kindly elf had offered Lucy a small bunch of flowers to hold during the ceremony if she wanted to but she declined them preferring to hold the groom's hand instead. The centaur's dwarf servants, who were middle-aged and rather pug faced looking very much like beluga whales as far as their facial expressions went, stood misty-eyed at attention as if deeply moved by the couple's youth and tenderness. They remained as silent as if they were mute until the last part when the centaur said, "You may now kiss the bride."

One female dwarf, partially distracted by something during the kiss, looked back when it was over and the newly married couple were gazing lovingly into each other's eyes and exclaimed, "Oh, I missed it!" She put her hand to her heart as if this turn of events was nothing short of devastating. "Kiss her again!"

Edmund smiled at her. "Would you mind terribly if I tried that again?"

Lucy giggled remembering how he'd said the same thing after their first attempt at a kiss when they had bumped noses. In a low whisper, she answered the same as she had that first time, "No, go ahead."

This time after their kiss, there was an applause and the sound of the female dwarf blowing her nose loudly into her handkerchief while she bawled, "That's just so beautiful."

"Have a safe trip home, you two." The centaur said conclusively.

Uh-oh, Lucy thought-remembering that technically speaking she had just run away from home, where _is_ home? At least Ed's a knight, so we shouldn't have to worry about being without shelter for long. Of course that wont do us any good for tonight; I don't care though, not really. Compared to being trapped in that manor helping my mother steal candle-sticks and other valuables so we can run away like a couple of cowards, being newly married with no idea where I'm going next is fairly heavenly. Maybe we'll go back to Digory's house, not that there's anywhere much we could stay other than the reclining cushions. I wonder if he knew that when Edmund left, there was the possibility that when he returned he would be a married man.

"Is someone coming to get you, dears?" The female dwarf asked, rather oblivious to the nature of borderline elopements. "I think there is a storm starting up." She pointed towards the night-sky which suddenly no longer seemed clear and starry but was instead filling quickly with dense rain clouds that blocked the ivory glow of the full moon above them.

Edmund looked over at Lucy and winced apologetically. Again, he wished that he had more to offer her. She was his wife now, and though he knew he could in fact take good care of her, he still felt a little ashamed of his fairly low resources.

Soon raindrops would be falling down from the sky. Judging by the rumbling, it was possible that icy hail might not be very unlikely, either. Digory's home was probably going to be a wee bit too far a run for them from where the cottage was located, even if they rode on Phillip's back (which wouldn't have been very fair of them considering it wouldn't give Phillip much of a chance to get to shelter himself). Lord Pevensie's manor was closer, if they started for it now, they might just make it there before the rain clouds burst into either a storm or just a heavy-somewhat treacherous-hard rain. Edmund remembered how to climb up the copper siding if only he could avoid the mistake he'd made last time of ending up in Peter's chamber rather than Lucy's. It seemed the only sensible option at the time so they bid good-bye to Phillip, thanked the remaining dwarfs and elves, and made a dash back towards the meadow and then for the manor itself.

When they reached the side they were pretty sure would lead them up into Lucy's chamber (Although in the dark it was really anyone's guess) if they climbed it, they were breathless and panting but also happy and forced to choke back rounds of intense laughter.

"Lucy," Edmund whispered, leaning close to her so that he didn't have to raise his voice to be heard over the faint rumbling over-head. "You didn't lock your windows, did you?"

Another rumble echoed from the sky and a single drop of water escaped and landed on the bridge of Lucy's nose. "I really, really hope not." She couldn't remember for sure if she had locked them but there was a good chance that they might still be open.

Thankfully, when they reached the top, the chance was favorable and the windows were indeed unlocked. Also, they had guessed correctly in assuming that it lead to Lucy's chamber. They beat the rainfall by about five seconds total and were both struggling not to snicker as they locked the window behind them.

A few moments later, they found themselves laid side by side on the bed. There was a sharp purple flash of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder. Almost involuntarily, Lucy found herself scooting closer to her husband.

Edmund came closer to her as well, gently sliding one arm under her and using it to pull her to him while lightly stroking her cheek with his other hand. "I love you, Lucy." He murmured.

"I love you, too, Ed." She answered, feeling a strange shiver of fear and excitement running up and down her spine as the wind blew the rain in constantly repeated tap-taps on the window.

Meanwhile, though, what had happened with Susan and the Telmarine feast? She had taken the carriage Tumnus had arranged for and just as planned, arrived at the feast shortly after the first bits of the festivities had started. She entered the room unescorted but not unnoticed. As soon as she placed a foot in the doorway, everyone present looked up and gaped at her as if a golden rainbow from heaven itself had fallen to earth and landed right in front of them.

The younger children all believed at once, without being told or even having it suggested to them, that she was royalty. Her splendid golden dress and shimmering mask were proof enough of that, still more was the way she held herself up tall and did not so much as look down at her feet even once out of initial embarrassment.

"There is one who is used to being looked at." Someone commented softly though not exactly in a whisper when they caught sight of her for them self.

As it was, Susan was sort of used to being gaped at-even as a nursemaid-because of her looks but it was only strong determination that she would not fail-she would not fail Narnia, she would not fail herself, and she would certainly not fail her brother, not after all he had done for her-that kept her head up high and her nose turned upwards.

Reclining at the loftiest table spread out with the finest delicacies and gold silverware and diamond-covered plates, lit by thick round candles with little red and yellow flames as bright as newly polished rubies, sat Lord Miraz, his wife, and Prince Caspian.

Miraz looked merry-even a little tipsy-as he brought his emerald-studded wine goblet to his mouth and took a sip. His wife looked a little bored and seemed interested only in first looking at the tapestries and then peering over at Susan with a puzzled expression wondering who the strange new guest could be.

Caspian, too, was staring at her but there was a hint of kindness in his expression that was not reflected in the majority of the other courtiers present. Susan clung to that glimmer of thoughtfulness as her only hope. Supposing she found quickly that she could not talk to him? What would it look like if she strolled right over to the empty chair beside him and sat herself in it? What choice did she really have? She had to talk to him, to make him promise not to attack her people, it was the only way.

Willing herself not to vomit both from nervousness and from being so close to Miraz after so long of dreading ever having to deal with his presence in a room again, Susan gulped back the lump forming in her throat and sat down beside the Telmarine prince.

She heard a few mumbles-And a few louder exclamations-of, "How rude!" or, "Who does she think she is?" or, "See, I _told _you she was a princess-a king's daughter! Who else would dare to sit down with a prince uninvited?"

Speak English, Susan reminded herself, inwardly terrified that she would accidentally greet him in Narnian out of habit and give herself away. "Hullo."

His attention completely captured, Caspian blinked in surprise, a faint smile coming onto his face, and replied back to her. "Hello there."

Susan breathed deeply. Here goes nothing, she thought.

**AN: Please review!**


	39. The night of the feast part three

**AN: Warning: this chapter has dark themes and ends with two major cliff-hangers. **

"Prince Caspian?" Susan said in a low, but very clear, tone in a regal-sounding English accent, ignoring the sweat beads she was sure were forming on her forehead; she was wasn't sure if she would be able to disguise her old Narnian accent as successfully as she needed to in order to fool the Telmarines.

"Yes?" Caspian answered. "Who are you?"

Susan took a deep breath. Be allusive, she thought, he mustn't suspect the truth; don't hint at anything even remotely Narnian.

"I come from..." her throat suddenly felt like it was closing on her. Oh, Aslan, supposing she forgot how to speak at all! "...a place..." _A Place?_ Oh yes, that was allusive all right, stupidly, pointless, annoyingly, improperly rehearsed, allusive!

I didn't ask where she came from, Caspian thought; feeling somewhere between amused and sort of frustrated, I asked who she was.

It was the strangest thing, she seemed sort of familiar although he couldn't tell for sure because of that mask she wore; which made her even unusual, no one else wore masks to these sort of non-costume feasts.

"Have you been enjoying your time in Telmar?" Caspian said finally, unsure of what else to say. He thought of directly asking for her name, but she seemed a little flustered and perhaps she might think his request too demanding, even rude. It was hard to tell what culture she came from; English was a pretty common language in quite a few places. A prince must not offend his visitors, how often had he always been reminded of that?

Susan fought the urge to demand how on earth a place where you had been taken after being kidnapped and were beaten and kicked at and scolded and eventually taken away from and abandoned could be ever been 'enjoyed' by biting her lower lip to keep the words in and answering with a simple nod.

She sure is a quiet lass, Caspian thought, nearly any other woman in her place sitting next to a prince would be chattering away. It's surprising how little she has to say; she seemed so bold when she came in and sat down. I wonder if I have done something wrong, maybe I should ask? But in front of all these people? She'd probably just shake her head no even if I _had_ offended somehow.

He decided to break the ice with a joke. It wasn't a terribly clever one, he knew it, she knew it, everyone else in the feasting hall knew it, but it wasn't completely devoid of charm and the lady in the golden dress did smile, looking a little more at ease now that the atmosphere was less serious.

Nervously, Susan made a comment that probably wouldn't have been considered terribly witty back in Narnia but had its place in a room of tipsy Telmarines and the people at the table roared with laughter. Caspian smiled back at her and she was surprised to find herself blushing.

Don't loose your head, Susan reminded herself, remember why you are here-you must save the Narnians.

Miraz reached across the table and Susan felt a scream rising in her throat. It almost got out but she swallowed it down hard and it was replaced only by a few tears sliding under her mask onto the silk tablecloth below.

Caspian noticed that the lady in the golden dress seemed to be crying. He wondered what was wrong. Something must have been upsetting her. Would it be terribly impolite to point this out and ask if there was anything he might do that would help? Or would proper behavior be to act as though he hadn't seen the tears at all? Laws and etiquette could be awfully confusing at times!

As it happened, Miraz was simply offering her a wine goblet, which Susan took with shaky hands wanting very much to hurl it at his head and flee the room.

She's terrified! Caspian realized, something's frightening her. But what is it? What's going on here?

Miraz raised an eyebrow at the strange lady as she took the wine goblet from him. Not being very sober at the moment, his own hands had not been holding it very straight but her's were moving so much that it was a wonder the wine did not spill all over the near-by center-pieces.

Susan didn't drink the wine, for all she knew Miraz could have put something in it. That was something she hadn't told anyone, not even Peter-knowing how upset he would have been. Before her own fear forced her into silence, he used to give her something to drink which made her dull witted and somewhat unaware of her surroundings. She always felt so dizzy and tired after drinking the drugged teas and juices he used to bring her and her eyelids and tongue always felt so heavy that she couldn't scream out or pound on the walls for someone to find her. She didn't want to drink the things he gave her, knowing well, young as she was, what would happen-that she would become too stupid to fight back or think of escaping; but he would force her to.

Once, when she had been particularly adamant and had flung a drugged silver-rimmed cup of tea across the room he locked her in so that it smashed on the opposite wall, he kicked her hard in the side and threatened her saying that if she didn't behave and do as she was told, he wouldn't bring her anything to eat. At first she said she didn't care, that she didn't want anything from him but as hunger eventually made her even more dizzy than drugged drinks did, she had to admit defeat in the end. She had to do what she was told if she didn't want to be beaten or starved.

It was at that moment, that Susan decided something, she didn't want only to save her people from Miraz, she wanted Miraz to suffer. Keeping her source of knowledge a secret would shield him from blame as likely as not. Why should he get away with all of the pain and suffering he'd caused in her life? Who was to say if he was allowed to go on as he was that he wouldn't someday snatch another pretty child away from her home and treat her with cruelty? If she saved Narnia from him now, wasn't it only rearranging deck chairs on a sinking ship when all was said and done? Couldn't he just plot to destroy them all over again?

Image after image, all so suppressed and pushed away in her mind, flooded into Susan's inward view. She couldn't see Caspian sitting next to her or the rich table of food in front of her, all she could see were pictures-as if in oil paintings in a well-lit gallery-from her past.

There she was playing with a little silver ball in the street watching it slip from her grasp and roll away down towards a gutter. She was going after it now, out to the street. A hand came out of a passing carriage, pulling her into it. She was crying but the hand was over her mouth now and the carriage was going faster; no one had seen her being taken, it was happening too quickly. She saw the room he kept her in and the door that would open only when Miraz came to visit her. Then the broken arm-she hadn't come when Miraz called her, the boy-the young Telmarine prince-who found her room by mistake and wanted her to play with him; he had been kind, she liked him. Then Miraz returning a day later and taking her out of the room at long last.

No more pictures now, it had changed. Oil paintings in her mind melted away but they did not re-reveal the Telmarine feast to her. Rather, they showed her trip to the canal as if she was a completely separate person watching it all happen. He had ordered her to be quiet but he needn't have worried, she was scared to death, there was no chance of her screaming for help. She did have a slight cough though which she couldn't control. How afraid she was that he would smack her for making a noise. _I can't help it, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me, please!_

Suddenly they weren't in the open anymore and he was placing her in one of the passages of a canal. She didn't know where it was, only that her feet hurt and her body felt weak and that this place was sort of cold and very dark. She could barely move her ankle, she knew she must have hurt it on something. Then the horrible hand she hated so much came down and grabbed onto one of her toes and snapped it like a twig. She heard a crunch and felt like fainting. It was so dark and all of her hurt so much. But he was leaving now. He didn't say anything, no goodbyes, no gloating. Just broke her toe, dumped her, and left. At last she found her voice. It came out in the form of loud wails and whimpers. She could cry out now but no one was coming. Then there was the sound of something lightly splashing near-by. Suddenly, in the dark, something reached out for her. She didn't scream though because she recognized the figure in front of her even in the bad lighting. It was her own brother. He was comforting her, putting his coat over her shoulders and lifting her out of the dark, she was safe now-Peter had saved her.

Then it faded away and she was back in her seat at the Telmarine feast. She was older now, in a golden dress. It all came flooding back to her and she knew what she had to do. She had to do it now.

"Your highness," Susan said, tossing her head up and placing the wine goblet away to the far right of the table as she turned to address Caspian. "please I beg of you to have mercy on me and my people for there is a man who has arranged for us all to be killed for no reason at all."

Caspian's jaw dropped in surprise. No wonder the poor lass was so nervous! She had come to beg for a peace treaty of some sort. Someone was trying to kill her and all of her kin and race! How vile! Even through the mask, he could see her pleading sad-eyes and felt deep pity for her. Only a complete idiot would not be able to see that she was a gentle girl, why should she be killed? What crime had she committed to be treated so unfairly?

"Who has done this?" He demanded, his eyes darkening with intense rage.

Filled with intense rage of her own, Susan pointed over at Miraz. She knew it wasn't part of the plan, but she couldn't help herself. "That man! Him, right there! The bad usurper Miraz!"

The entire feasting hall was filled with gasps of disbelief and all eyes turned both to Susan and to Miraz at once. Miraz didn't stare back at the gaping guests for long, though. He turned to Susan and looked hard at her for a moment. And she felt certain that he recognized her even if his nephew did not.

Outside, a thunder storm of some sort seemed to be starting.

Back at Lord Pevensie's manor, Helen was wondering where her daughter was. She had been waiting for hours for Lucy to return from getting those dumb flowers she was so fond of. Who was going to help her pack, how thoughtless and selfish that child could be sometimes! Had she gotten lost? Maybe she hadn't entered in through the same door she'd used when she left. Helen decided to check around some of Lucy's places in the manor and see if she had returned after all.

She checked all of the sitting rooms Lucy studied in, even behind the chairs and under the curtains just in case her daughter had fallen asleep there or something.

Asleep, she thought, there's an idea! Maybe she forgot about packing and went to bed, it does seem awfully like something that silly forgetful child would do, I'll check her bed chamber next.

When she reached the double doors that led into Lucy's chamber she thought she heard a sound from within that was somewhere between a giggle and a sigh-it sounded like Lucy. She put her hand on the door, prepared to open it.

**AN: (Ducks to avoid the rotten fruit you're throwing) I did _warn_ you that there would be two cliff hangers! By the way: I'm curious, can anyone guess which story from the bible helped inspire the part in this chapter when Susan points at Miraz? Just wondering. It's not an exact match or anything but like I said, it did help inspire the main idea and I'm wondering if any of you can figure out what it was. If so, please mention it in your reviews. Thanks! PLEASE REVIEW! **


	40. The night of the feast part four

**AN: As always with these sort of darker themed chapters, I feel I must remind people that this is rated T and not k+ for a reason so that they don't get in over their heads. This chapter has some scary (At least_ I_ think they're scary it's up to you to decide, really, I guess) moments among other things. Nothing too bad but better safe than sorry. I hope you enjoy the chapter anyway. **

The storm outside rumbled on but neither Edmund nor Lucy paid it any mind now. At first, they were conscious of the water hitting the window and the wind howling in a strangely soft, summer-like way in spite of the intensity of the tempest roaring by, and through this they became suddenly aware that the air in the chamber was a little cool; it wasn't freezing or anything but it was noticeable all the same. It didn't take the newly married couple long to figure out that the closer they pressed themselves to each other, the warmer they felt. It was safe and comforting being together like that.

It was a little strange how even though there were husband and wife now they still felt a little shy. They felt as though they knew everything about each other and yet they both found themselves blushing as hard as if they were near-strangers.

Edmund awkwardly slipped his tunic over his head as Lucy laid a couple of half-inches away, unsure of why she suddenly felt the desire to laugh. She bit it back; she didn't want Edmund to think she was making fun of him or that she thought his bare chest looked unappealing. He reached out for her again but this time she pulled away just slightly. She felt a little prudish still being completely dressed when he wasn't. Lucy wasn't sure if she was quite ready to take off all of her clothes, not just yet, even it was her wedding night. And considering the fact that he himself was still at least half-dressed, that might have been a little racy anyway. So she stripped down to her undergarments, unbuttoning the front of her dress and sliding it down to her knees. Then she hesitated.

A few weeks earlier she had been climbing a tree and had not been as careful as she ought to have been, slamming her left knee against the bark until it scraped, drew blood, and left a dark purple bruise in the shape of an oval. It was still a rather nasty sight even thought it didn't hurt anymore. She hadn't allowed anyone to bandage it up because she had been worried about her mother finding out and demanding to know how it had happened and then scolding her for tree climbing or worse, calling her a liar and claiming it to be a sword fighting injury, in spite of Lucy's insistence that it was no such thing. She'd thought of telling Peter but remembering what happened last time when she really _had _gotten hurt sword fighting-how angry Helen had been when she'd found out-decided to take care of the relatively small scrape herself. It hadn't been a deep gash, the blood had dried up remarkably quickly, but now as she stood in front of her husband, taking off her dress, she was suddenly horribly aware of how awful it still looked.

"Are you alright?" Edmund asked gently, noticing the look on her face.

Lucy winced but she got herself together and pulled the dress all the way down. She paused for a moment, wondering what his reaction would be.

He had to bite back a laugh of his own not wanting her to think he found her bruised knee amusing. What he _did_ find amusing, however, was that for that short moment, she had been so concerned about him seeing the bruise. Lucy truly was the most innocent person he knew.

She's in front of me half-naked, thought Edmund-trying to keep a straight face, and she honestly thought I was going to find her unattractive because of a bruised knee!

Of course that didn't mean he wasn't concerned about it; seeing as one of the first things he did was whisper, "Does it hurt?" just to make sure she was alright, then his attention was quickly driven away from her knees again when she shook her head no, assuring him that it was only initial embarrassment that made her so nervous to begin with.

Then he took her back in his arms again and she rested her head on his chest. They stayed like that for a while before he took one of his arms from around her and gently lifted up her chin so he could kiss her lips again. Lucy felt somewhere between giddy with excitement and completely contented with how her life was at that exact moment.

In-between his kisses and caresses she found herself letting out a sound that was almost a sigh but had a giggle-like ring to it. Edmund smiled at her and opened his mouth to speak but no words came out; rather, his eyes rolled over to the door. They hadn't heard any footsteps in the hallway nor had they even heard the door creaking open, but now, as Lucy followed her husband's nervous gaze, they could both see Helen standing there in the doorway.

Lucy fumbled across the bed for her dress, haphazardly throwing it over her head and pulling it around herself the best she could; but it was too late, Helen had already seen her in her undergarments.

In Telmar, Susan had just announced that Miraz was the one trying to kill her and her people and stared at her enemy, wide-eyed, wondering what he was going to do now. Would he deny it? Would he do something to her?

"Uncle Miraz," Caspian said in disbelief as the shocking realization hit him like a slap in the face or a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head. "that law you made me sign off on..."

Glaring at Susan, Miraz stood up so that he could tower over everyone who was still seated. "Caspian, may I introduce you to the woman who's servant completed the final task of killing your father."

Susan did not know that Miraz had gotten Caspian to agree to signing off the law because of his father's murder supposedly being plotted by an entire race, but she was well-aware of what Tumnus had done; she never could make herself forget. Realizing that Miraz knew and seemed intent on revealing it to Caspian, she felt like she was falling apart into a million pieces. How could she endure Caspian knowing that his father had died because of her? Looking at his shocked, unreadable expression, It came to her suddenly that she genuinely cared for him-little as she knew him. He had always been so kind to her and then there was that lovely glass rose...oh, now he was going to hate her for ever! If only she could save her people, she might be able to come to terms with his hatred but it would be a loss all the same. She wanted to be his friend. Maybe even, she thought sadly, more than his friend...someday.

"He wasn't supposed to kill your father," Susan blurted out, accidentally speaking in Narnian, her mind spinning too fast to remember that she was supposed to speak to him only in English. "he was trying to kill your uncle!"

Something in Caspian's mind clicked; he looked at Susan as if noticing her presence in the room for the first time that night. "The girl with the hurt arm in the tower-room...that was _you_?"

Tears streamed down her face, soaking the inside of her mask. "Your highness...I..." She didn't know what to say. She had failed, she knew she had failed. Her people couldn't be spared, Miraz wouldn't be stopped after all and Peter, oh, dear Peter, he had been so sure she would be able to do this...and now...oh, Aslan, no!

Ever so gently, Caspian reached over and took her mask off before she realized what he was doing and could attempt to stop him. He recognized her again. "The girl from the window with the roses."

The girl in the window had been Narnian, the girl in the tower room had had a Narnian accent, this girl in the golden dress-whom he now knew was the same person as the first two were-was Narnian. Miraz had wanted him to agree to kill the _Narnians_? Narnia had always been a peaceful country, his father had trusted them; there was no way they would have plotted to kill a Telmarine king.

He remembered the wedding at that Lord's house...Pevensie, his name was, he was pretty sure. There had been plenty of good people at that wedding. He wouldn't destroy them, Miraz was a liar, something would have to be done about him. What was most confusing was why Susan was so afraid of his uncle and why her servant would have tried to kill him.

"Guards, arrest that woman!" Miraz declared loudly before his nephew could get a word in edge-wise. "She is a traitor against the crown! She speaks against your greatest lords in order to turn your crowned prince against them. Clearly she was sent here to start a civil war!"

In a flash, Susan stood up and rushed out to the back garden; ignoring the rain the wind whipped unmercifully at her face. Whatever would happen next to her and her people, whatever shame she had just inflicted on her family, whatever pain she must suffer through next, whatever choice Caspian made about the Narnians and the law, whatever anyone said or did, Susan knew that she mustn't let herself get arrested. If they took her to the dungeon and she didn't come home that night, Peter would never know what had happened, he deserved to know of his sister's mistake, that she had failed him. She wouldn't take the coward's way out, she wouldn't stand back and take Miraz's cruel treatments, not this time.

What she didn't know was that as soon as she had fled, Caspian had changed the order and demanded Miraz be arrested for tricking him into signing what he called, 'an uncanny law' through cruel manipulation. His aunt burst into tears and pleaded with him to change his mind, but he was adamant.

"I am sorry, Aunt." Caspian told her, as the guards advanced on Miraz. "But I cannot let this go."

Miraz ran down the tiled floor and pulled himself out a small side-exist just as three of the biggest guards lunged at him, accomplishing nothing more than smashing their heads against each other and the wall next to Miraz's escape route.

"Find him!" Caspian ordered, his mind reeling with both raw determination to do the right thing and a keen desire to know exactly what was going on here. If only he could find the lady in the golden dress, he was certain she would be able to explain everything. Why she had been in his castle as a child, how she knew his uncle, how...well, pretty much how _everything _that happened to begin with.

It was dark in the garden and Susan was more than half-blinded by her own tears. Then there was the foggy air and the steady rainfall. She was never going to find her way out of there like this. Suddenly a bush rustled and a horrid hand, familar even in the dark, grabbed onto her wrist.

"Let me go!" Susan screamed, pulling away from him.

Miraz didn't let go. In a dark, bitter voice, he hissed, "I broke your arm once before, I can do it again, Susan Pevensie." And tightened his grip even more until it started to loose all feeling.

"I am not eight years old anymore, Miraz!" Susan cried out, kicking him in the shins.

He cringed and shoved her onto the ground, hard. She fell into a small muddy puddle that soaked her through and through and made her shiver almost violently. "That was a mistake, coming there was a mistake. And you need to learn that bad things happen when you make mistakes."

"Stay away from me!" Susan shouted, scooting away from him as quickly as possible. "Don't you dare touch me."

"You don't think your brother is going to save you this time, do you?" Miraz kicked her in the side again to prevent her from getting away. "If it makes you feel any better, he'll be the first Narnian I slaughter-after I get rid of that idiot nephew of mine. He's of no use to me now that you came and tried to ruin everything I've worked so hard for."

Susan rolled onto her other side, scratching one of her cheeks on the gravel-filled path, and tried to get away. _Don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him...get away...he's can't hurt you...you're way passed hurt...you just have to get home...get home and tell Peter you're sorry, you're so sorry you failed him...tell him goodbye...tell Lucy goodbye, too. Just don't listen to him, don't listen. _

Miraz bent down and pulled her by the hair, dragging her to her knees. "But what am I going to do with _you_?"

Susan couldn't help it, tears streamed down her face like two muddy rivers, she felt blood on her scraped cheek, her knees smarted, her legs felt sore. She couldn't speak, and she couldn't get away. This was how it would all end. She hadn't saved the Narnians, she had only put Caspian in danger as well. One question she used to always ask herself was who would die for her sake next. Her mother, Caspian's father, and now...now, it would be Caspian himself. And then, her brother. Aslan willing, maybe a few Narnians would be able to get away safely but the chances were slim.

The rainfall grew less heavy and became almost all mist and drizzle now but thunder and a few bursts of scattered lightning continued in the distance.

"I've got an idea..." Miraz chuckled wickedly. "I'll keep you alive so that your brother can see you one more time before he dies-and you'll see his end."

A whimper escaped from Susan's throat.

Miraz seemed to enjoy her suffering and even in the dark, she could see the corners of his mouth lengthening out as his smile grew wider. "You know, there's another thought, your mother died after hanging herself and Caspian's father died of poisoning, right?" He paused for a moment even though the question was rhetorical. "It would be fitting if your deaths mirrored theirs, don't you think?"

She couldn't even fully wrap her mind around exactly what it was Miraz meant by that; images of Caspian being poisoned and of herself hanging from a noose filled her mind but they were only faint outlines that were every bit as blurry as her thoughts were getting.

There was a sharp cracking sound that came seemingly out of no where. A sort of a _thud_ echoed across the garden and the look on Miraz's face changed as if he'd been hit from behind. His grip on her hair lessened until at last it was practically non-existent and Susan lunched and found herself thrown to the ground again. He went white, very white, and then he fell forward, thinking he was throwing himself at her, Susan used the last of her strength to roll out of his reach. When she finally gathered enough courage to peer over at his body, she found he laid flat on his face and wasn't moving.

"By the Lion!" A voice exclaimed in Modern Narnian that did not contain even a trace of a Telmarine accent. "I think he's dead."

Susan hadn't realized that someone else had been in the garden with them; she would have cried out for help if she'd known. But it was clear now that someone-a Narnian someone-was there with them and had just-probably accidentally-killed Miraz right in front of her, saving her life in the process. The someone was a boy holding a long wooden-handled metal shovel. A flash of lightning burst out and she caught a clearer glimpse of him; puny and fair-haired. He was young, younger even than Lucy was by about a year or so; dressed in the sort of clothing a Telmarine servant boy or musician might wear.

**AN: Gasp! What will happen to Edmund and Lucy? And just who saved Susan from Miraz? You'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out. In the meantime, PLEASE REVIEW! **


	41. The night of the feast part five

Lucy climbed out of the bed and went to meet her mother at the doorway, unsure of what to say or do next. She couldn't read Helen's face; she couldn't figure out what she was thinking-only that she was angry, very angry. Her jaw-line was thin and hard and her chin was a still, pointed shadow against the light from hallway lamps.

"Mum, I..." Lucy stammered weakly, fumbling to close the laces on the front of her dress while she spoke.

"You little tramp." Helen hissed finally, her glare hardening even more although Lucy hadn't thought that was possible. She reached down and smacked her daughter across the face repeatedly. Lucy lost her grip on the front of the dress and nearly fell backwards from some of the harder blows.

As soon as he realized what was happening, Edmund got up from the bed and stood in front of Lucy so that Helen could not strike her again. He spoke through his teeth, "Do _not _hit her again."

Helen's lips curled up into a wild-looking sneer and she let out a snort of pure contempt. "Oh, isn't that quaint, pretending you care about her. Why don't you just go away now that you've gotten what you wanted?"

Lucy couldn't help but think she had never seen Edmund looking quite so angry as he did at that moment. After all he had done and after all that had happened, how dare Helen say such a thing? True, she had always been like that, demanding and paranoid; but he was sick and tired of her constantly questioning his love for Lucy. She couldn't see it because she didn't want to. It wasn't because she truly worried about her daughter; it was clearly because Lucy falling in love with him didn't fit into her plans or benefit her in any way. If they had never joined the Pevensie household, if they had never gotten a chance to escape their lives as Ettinsmoor refugees on the streets, Helen probably would have _begged_ Edmund to marry her daughter so that they could live indoors. Hadn't she come quite close as it was? Sure, she probably had no real intentions of marrying off her nine year old daughter at _that _moment on the first day, but she had shown her true colours-her true desperation, her true selfishness-simply by suggesting it at all. Helen was the sort of woman that cared for no one beyond her own skin; not her husband, not her ill and frightened stepchildren, not her own flesh-and-blood daughter, not anyone. She knew nothing about love. What right did she have to lay such an accusation on him? 

He didn't answer her but he didn't turn to go, either, he just stared at her, unwilling to back down.

"Why do you persist in trying to ruin our lives?" Helen demanded, looking passed Edmund so she could make eye-contact with Lucy.

"I haven't done anything wrong." Lucy said softly, her voice suddenly much stronger; she glanced at the back of her husband's head. "_We_ haven't."

"Nothing wrong?" Helen exclaimed, taking a step backwards as if completely stunned by her daughter's words. "Nothing wrong? How can you say that? I just walked in on you in your undergarments letting that...that..." She motioned over at Edmund, her voice shaking so furiously that she could barely finish the sentence. "...Lucy, how can you be so stupid? Do you really think he's still going to be around to look after you a year from now? Two years from now? I did not struggle to get better lives for us just so you could throw yours away."

That was it, Edmund had had enough. "Alright, that does it! Listen, Helen, I'm only going to say this once. I'll say it nice and slow so your big head can comprehend it. I'm not going anywhere, I love your daughter and she and I are going to spend the rest of our lives together. It doesn't matter what you say or do. I know I am not the son-in-law you wanted, I know I'm not rich enough, but that's not your decision to make, it was Lucy's and she's already made it."

"What do you mean, 'she's already made it'?" Helen demanded coldly. "She's only a child she doesn't know-"

"Mum," Lucy slipped her hand in Edmund's, still standing safely behind him. "it's too late, you can't do anything...you can't get between us, not now."

"Lucy-" Helen started.

"We got married." Lucy gulped, leaning her head closer to Edmund's shoulder for comfort and also so that she didn't have to see the look on her mother's face directly-knowing her reaction was not going to be at all pleasant.

"Married?" Helen repeated dumbly, blinking in surprise and confusion. So that was what the little brat had meant when he'd said Lucy had already made her decision. Well that was unacceptable! Of course, her own daughter would have never come up with such an absurd idea, at least not on her own, Helen's eyes flickered back to Edmund now with such intense hatred he thought that if she could have killed him on the spot, she would have. "She's barely fifteen, how dare you manipulate my poor daughter into thinking that the two of you-"

"Stop it!" Lucy exclaimed, letting go of Edmund now and walking away from his protective back over to her mother. "This has nothing to do with my age or you thinking he's a bad influence on me and you know it!"

Helen raised her hand to smack her again but Edmund quickly pulled himself in front of his wife before she could make contact, raising an eyebrow at his new mother-in-law in a challenging, adamant, sort of way.

"You are getting it annulled." Helen told them bitterly. "First thing in the morning."

"No, mum," Lucy said firmly. "We are not."

"I'll see to it." Helen muttered under her breath. "I dare say, none of the nobles in Ettinsmoor will have to know about this; we can still marry you off."

"What?" Lucy knew she really shouldn't have been surprised at her mother for behaving in the same cold-blooded manner she always did but perhaps part of her shock came from the longing for Helen to understand, really understand, just once. Or else, maybe Lucy thought more of her mother than she deserved and found any faith she did have shattered by those thoughtless words.

"Helen, do you hear yourself?" Edmund demanded incredulously. "You're talking about marrying off your daughter when she is already married."

"Yes," She sneered at him. "to _you_, but I wont allow this to last."

"It's out of your hands." Edmund said, calming his anger so that his tone sounded almost-meek in spite of the rage still bubbling inside of him. "Lucy is my wife now, you'll have to live with that."

At that moment, Helen's entire scheme became perfectly clear to Lucy and she gasped. "Mum, you didn't!"

"Didn't what?" Helen asked her in a sickly voice loaded with fake-innocence that even Lucy thought was nothing short of pathetic.

"Plan to take me to Ettinsmoor with you so that I could marry a noble there so we could be rich again!" Oh, Aslan, it _was_ true! How was it that she hadn't figured it out sooner?

Of course Helen wanted her young daughter with her in Ettinsmoor, so she could use that to benefit herself. Lucy could practically hear her mother's voice, 'Yes, she's young, but she's good and obedient and very bright, I have no doubts she'll make a wonderful wife for your son...what's that? You don't have a son? Well, sir, you yourself don't look so old, widower of thirty-five years that you may be...perhaps, you...' She shuddered and pushed those voices out of her mind. They couldn't get her, not now. Thank goodness she was already married, if she hadn't gone...if she had told Edmund she wanted to wait just a few years...that she did love him but they couldn't be together right now...Helen would have dragged her off to Ettinsmoor and married her off to the first wealthy noble she laid eyes on.

Helen didn't deny Lucy's accusation, nor did she look the slightest bit remorseful. She didn't so much as even look away shamefully at being found-out.

"You did!" Lucy cried, pulling herself closer still to Edmund's side; she felt she need him for support now or she might just collapse from a mix of pure dismay and unrepressed fury. "Mother! How could you?"

"Whatever money we salvaged from goods we could take with us, would run out sooner or later, we don't have a choice, Lucy."

"Maybe you don't." Lucy said bitterly. "But I do."

Helen threw her head back and let out one disdainful, sharp laugh. "You are too stupid, my child, much too stupid. I never imagined that at your age you would still be like this."

"Like what?" Lucy demanded.

"You don't get it, do you?" Helen said taking a step closer to her daughter although Edmund still stood in-between them. "We are not those who are born into good fate, we have to make it for ourselves. We are not the sort who can let bad circumstances tie them down. I got us out of the slums once, marrying Lord Pevensie, I was being kind to you when I did that, Lucy. If you must know, at first, I did have notions of you being the one we married off but I took your age into account and stuck my own neck in the noose so to speak."

"That's a lie, Helen." Edmund blurted out angrily. "That's a lie and you know it. You had every intention of trying to get Lucy married off to Peter, you didn't care that he was too old for her, you were only worried that he'd give all his money to his sister and leave you destitute. You only started courting Lord Pevensie because you realized your chances of getting your hands his money and title were more likely than Lucy getting her hands on Peter's."

"What?" Lucy gaped at her husband in disbelief. "What are you talking about, Edmund? You knew about this?"

"Of course I knew about this!" Edmund snapped.

"How did you...? I mean, what?" This was too much information for Lucy's mind to process all at once.

"She started planning the second she saw you talking to him at the fence near my grandfather's house, she could tell by the way he was dressed that he wasn't poor." Edmund explained, shooting Helen a smug, 'how do you like me now?' sort of look. "Of course after she got married to Lord Pevensie and the two of you were like family, she abandoned that idea in favor of having you as a future decoy to use at her disposal. She doesn't care about you even a little bit, Lucy. If Lord Pevensie had been some sort of pervert and wanted you instead of her and offered her enough money..." He let his voice trail off, he knew Lucy was smart enough to figure the rest out for herself. "Now she just wants you, like you said, to marry someone from Ettinsmoor."

"Lucy Pevensie, who are you going to believe?" Helen snapped, reaching for her daughter's face to touch it in fake reassurance but not being able to get passed Edmund. "That lying little brat or the woman who raised you?"

Lucy shook her head at her mother, tears streaming freely down her face as she spoke. "Who do you think?"

In the garden of the Telmarine castle, the fair-haired Narnian boy helped Susan to her feet; and now, as the clouds parted, and the moon came out, he recognized her. "Lady Susan Pevensie? Daughter of Lord Pevensie?"

"Do I know you?" Susan blurted out, giving him a faint apologetic smile. He did seem sort of familiar but in a foreign country where nothing was familar, where everybody felt so distant and hostile, the very fact that he was of her own race was comforting and home-like, so she couldn't judge based on that.

"Sort of." The boy admitted, wiping his right hand on the lower half of his doublet as if trying to rid himself of the stinging sensation that griping the shovel so tightly had left him with. "I'm your stepsister's cousin."

"Eustace!" Susan exclaimed, recognizing him at last. "Oh, but, I thought-"

"You thought I died in the raid, right?" Eustace finished for her.

"Well, yes..." Susan admitted sort of sheepishly.

Eustace looked down at Miraz's lifeless body. "Perhaps we'd better get out of here before someone says we murdered him."

"Is he really dead?" Susan whispered, feeling suddenly like a little girl again in spite of everything she'd done that night to remind herself that she had grown up and was safe now.

"I think so." Eustace bent down, flipped the usurper's body over, and put his head to his chest. No sound, no thudding, just pure silence in there.

Still unable to really believe it, Susan took one of Miraz's drooping hands in her own and ran her fingers along the veins close to his wrist so she could feel for a pulse. She felt very much as if there should be one, how could a heartless monster, an immortal demon, a deathless creature of no humanity, truly be dead? Could the man who'd hurt her so badly really be gone for ever? At long last? Was she truly free? For real? Or would he find a way to come back and haunt her like he always had somehow? But there was no breathing coming from his chest and she saw in the now half-hidden hazy moonlight that he had a large lump on his head from where Eustace had hit him so hard. So it was real, this wasn't a dream or a wish, the evil Miraz really was dead.

Eustace now looked over at Susan, taking in her shivering wet state, her now crumbled-looking golden dress, and her long disheveled hair that hung in dark clumps plastered to the sides of her pale, stricken face.

"Come," He said kindly. "Let's get you inside and I'll explain everything."

"I-I-I can't..." Susan stammered, looking about at everything as if she was in a trance. "I have..." she sneezed delicately into the slightly-torn right sleeve of the golden dress. "...to get...home...they...n-n-need...to...know..."

"We'll get you home, I promise." Eustace said gently, herding her inside with his arm without actually making contact with her shoulders. "You have to dry off and rest of a moment first, you can't start back like this."

Susan nodded, blinking back more tears which came to her eyes unexpectedly. She wasn't sure exactly what she was crying about now, only that she was still afraid. Miraz was dead, she was grown-up, and she was still so very afraid. It didn't stop, the fear never ended. There was no escape. That alone was worth weeping over. For she realized, as she took one last look over her shoulder at the usurper's corpse lying in a puddle of cold muddy water on the pathway, whether he was dead or alive, she herself might never be free.

**AN: So? Whatja think? Please review!**


	42. The night of the feast part six

Susan was now sitting in a comfortable chair in a guest chamber by a warm, roaring, cracking fireplace. She had a warm, thick, black velvet blanket wrapped around her shaking shoulders and Eustace had just slipped a white-gold porcelain mug filled with some hot drink into her cold, tired, white-and-red raw hands. She brought it to her nose and inhaled; it smelled lovely, like heated cherry-tea with a little bit of vanilla. The rich scent of cinnamon sprinkles tickled her nose hairs. The sweet, misty rising steam felt like a soft glove stroking her face, making her scraped cheek smart just slightly. She closed her eyes and opened them again, peering into the mug. Before bringing it to her lips, she hesitated as if the fear she still felt was gripping her tightly, reminding her of the drugged drinks she'd endured swallowing all those years ago. Could she really trust Eustace? She looked away from the mug in her hands over to him-his face lacked any maliciousness or eagerness, it simply bore concern. Yes, she could trust him. She put the cup to her lips, took a sip, let it's heat and comfort rest on her tongue for a moment, then she swallowed feeling it run down her throat like sweet golden life, as if she was swallowing drops from the rays of the sun itself.

"Will you be alright?" Eustace asked gently, taking a seat by the fire across from her and putting his feet up on the stool. He appeared to be trying to look calm although Susan could tell he was still more than a little troubled and shaken over the fact that he had just killed Miraz whether or not he'd fully meant to.

She took another sip of the drink and let it slide down slowly before answering. "I hope so." Her gaze left him and drifted over to a small pile of embers starting to appear in the corner of the fireplace.

"Oh," Eustace got up and took a stick to the fire, turning over one of the logs so as to keep it burning for a little longer.

"What happened to you?" Susan asked him, sliding the cup from one hand to the other and then holding it with both again. "How is it you weren't killed in the night raid?"

Eustace walked over to the other side of the chamber and looked out the window facing the courtyard, letting all of the memories come back to him. "It all happened so fast...I was fighting, down there...and arrows, hundreds of them...flying everywhere, I didn't see Edmund, so I knew there was some chance of his getting out safely but I realized then that everyone I was laying eyes on at that moment, every single brave soul fighting in front of me, was going to die. I realized, I too, was going to die." He paused and shuddered. "It wasn't without some horror that I also realized that I had never really befriended any of them, I had always been obnoxious and pushed myself away from any form of friendship. I knew that when I died, maybe my mother would cry but no one else would miss me." He blinked back a row of tears. "Still, what did that matter? There were so many brave knights falling-pierced by the arrows, all worthy of being recalled, so much more so than I was, that would never even get a proper burial. Then a faun, heavy and weighed down by thick armor, got shot in the side and fell right on me." He looked over at Susan again and shrugged. "It went black after that."

"What did you see when you woke up?" Susan wanted to know.

Eustace smiled and shook his head. "Two Telmarine girls, twins. They saved me and took me to their own chamber to be healed. Some old, kind fellow, Doctor Cornelius, came in and they said something to him and he nodded and gave me something to make me feel better. You see, he's a sort of Narnian spy, in a manner of speaking, he's a spy of peace meaning he wont attack or betray but his grandfather was a Narnian dwarf with long legs and platform shoes who married a Telmarine woman and he may or may not have Narnian blood in him from other sources, too. He's a kind man and he helped the twins look after me and he told them they had done well to trust him-explaining his heritage to them and what not, the older twin gasped but she still liked and trusted him and cared for me all the same."

Susan listened quietly until he finished and then added, "But you're well now, Eustace, why didn't you ever go back home?"

He blushed, everything from his cheeks to the tips of his nose and ears turned scarlet. "I really like her, Susan, I couldn't bear to leave, I didn't have any intention of staying but then..."

"Who are you talking about?"

"The eldest twin." He blushed again. "Her name's Jill."

Susan couldn't help but smile at his confession. So Eustace had fallen in love with a Telmarine girl, how about that? Yes, stranger things had happened but it was still odd in a charming sort of way.

"I've been pretending to be a sort of upper servant," Eustace explained, lowering his voice a bit. "I've learned how to speak Telmarine and I'm trying to learn to play music as an extra cover story. I can already play two songs on the harp and do a little with those long silver flutes but I'm not great. My main cover now is that I am apprenticed to Doctor Cornelius, it was the only sensible solution. I don't think anyone suspects who I really am although my accent is rather awful, even if I can speak the Telmarine words all right, I can't accent them well at all. Even Gwendolen-that's Jill's twin-says it's a lost cause in my case."

"You've changed." Susan noticed.

Eustace smiled. "I know."

"Are you glad?"

He paused for a moment, considering it. "Yes," He said finally, "I am."

"Eustace?"

"Yes?"

"How did you know I was in danger?" Susan asked, leaning back in her chair and daring to close her eyes half-way for a short moment before the fear of still being somewhat alone in the Telmarine castle-in spite of Eustace's company-hit her and forced them open again. "From Miraz, I mean."

"Well, to be honest, I didn't know _you _were in danger." Eustace explained sort of quietly. "Just that he was hurting another Narnian."

"What do you mean _another_ Narnian?" Susan whispered, feeling rather confused by this point.

Eustace sighed deeply. "Though by some stroke of luck, the doctor and I managed to avoid harm, there were a couple of other Narnians around the area that didn't escape his fury....There was a servant boy, he didn't speak any Telmarine...he was so obviously Narnian that..." Eustace's throat closed on him and his voice trailed off, he didn't need to finish the sentence. "When he was hurting you in the garden, even through the storm, I heard you cry out-in Narnian."

Isn't that something, Susan thought curiously, if I had gone on speaking English, Eustace might not have thought to rescue me, or he might have been afraid to, not knowing that were of the same race...or maybe not...but still, it is not strange that the very mistake that was almost my destruction, also assisted in saving my life?

"I didn't mean to kill him though." Eustace told her, playing with his knuckles nervously as he spoke. "I only wanted to help...you seemed so scared and you were one of my people...a Narnian...and he was so cruel...I just grabbed the shovel and..."

"It's alright." Susan said softly, in an almost motherly fashion, trying to comfort him.

"You don't think they'd try me for murder, do you?" His eyes widened a little in fear.

Though she wished desperately that she could say she was completely sure that the Telmarines wouldn't put him on trial, Susan wasn't daft enough to really believe that. After all, she hadn't actually met very many kind Telmarines. True, Caspian was nice, and apparently so was Eustace's sweetheart and her twin sister, but still.

"I wouldn't go around announcing that you were the one who hit him with a shovel." Susan advised her step-cousin. "If they don't know they can't really pin it on you, I don't think."

"Is it wrong that I'm glad he's gone?" Eustace suddenly felt his courage draining quickly away from him. He had only wanted to save the poor Narnian girl in the golden dress, the one screaming for help. But if he was glad that the man he had killed was gone, did that make it cold-blooded murder all the same?

Susan shook her head. "If so, I am more guilty than you are."

"It seemed like there was some sort of history there." Eustace said, unable to look her in the eyes. From the moment he'd rescued her, this was the question he'd most wanted to ask, but he felt it might be a bit painful and had held off.

"Yes." Susan admitted, feeling a hard lump in her throat that she had lived with since childhood slowly starting to dissolve. It was her lump of silence. The one Miraz had instilled in her. The one that had kept her from telling anyone what he'd done to her. Her voice had found a way around it only with Peter-but then, he was special, he was her brother, the one she trusted and loved no matter what-but even from him, it held things back. She never felt relief. She never felt the weight on her chest moved even a little. Now, though, afraid though she still was, she felt something new. A readiness. She wanted to tell someone-anyone-everything. Maybe that anyone could be Eustace. He was looking at her with deep concern and he _had_ changed. Actually, they both had; they had grown up without realizing it. The smart-mouthed little punk was gone and so was the voiceless girl from the window, looking out at the world but never stepping into it. In their places were two new people, both needing to be heard and understood so that they might heal and find a new place in the world that kept turning with or without their consent.

"I thought so." Eustace sighed compassionately. "This isn't the first time he's hurt you, is it?"

"No." Susan sighed, intertwining her own two hands for the comfort of the sensation of her fingers falling asleep and going numb. "It's not. Eustace, he's the one who kidnapped me when I was a little girl."

"Oh, Susan!" He cried out, feeling very much like he'd just been slapped in the face. "Why didn't you ever say anything? And he was at your own house before, welcomed by your own father!"

"I couldn't..." Susan whispered, a few left-over tears escaping as she spoke. "I just couldn't."

"You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to."

Ice in her throat still slowly melting and dripping away down into the pits of her stomach freeing her screams and words and voice, Susan looked him straight in the face. "No, I want to."

"Then I'm all ears." He said kindly.

"Well it started when I was eight, I was playing with a silver ball and it rolled out into the streets and I..." Susan felt the entire story rolling off of her tongue as freely as if it wasn't even true, as freely told as if she was any other storyteller sitting by the fire with tales of terror to spin for no other reason than to amuse. Perhaps this was the start of breaking free.

**AN: Please review!**


	43. The night of the feast part seven

**AN: This is the last chapter that will be part of the "Night of the feast" series of chapters but it will NOT be the last chapter in this fic although the story is getting closer to its end.**

True to his word, Eustace did help Susan to get back to Lord Pevensie's manor. After she told him her story and he listened wordlessly, merely nodding here and there to remind her he was in fact paying attention-which proved to be just what she needed as this was her first time telling the account of her kidnapping in its entirety and was not ready to hear actual comments, much less something along the lines of, 'I'm sorry' or 'how horrid!'-he led her around to the back of the castle and arranged with a friendly-looking elderly Telmarine fellow who's name Susan didn't catch, for her to be driven home in one of the ladies-in-waiting's carriages drawn by two rather stout-looking, over-grown, white ponies.

Sitting in the back, feeling life in her only when they ran over a bump and she was jolted roughly enough for her mind to leave the numb state that reflecting in horror and awe on the events that had taken place that night had left her in, Susan peered out the window at the landscapes and hills and they blurred into dark black-and-blue shapes before her eyes as they whizzed by. She would be home soon. What was she going to say to Peter when she saw him? How could she explain all that had happened? Maybe it didn't matter; maybe now that Miraz was dead and Caspian knew the truth, the Narnians might just be spared and she could go back to her life as her brother's nursemaid. No major changes had to happen if only the lives of her people were spared. Then it wouldn't have been for naught after all; all of their efforts would have been worth something.

I wonder what the prince thinks of me now that he knows it's my fault his father died, Susan thought as the carriage left the Telmarine boarders far behind and started towards the main streets of Narnia, I'm sort of glad he knows the truth now, though, at least I don't have to live a lie if I should ever run into him again-however unlikely that may be.

"Is this the place, lass?" The carriage driver asked her, leaning his head back towards the passenger seats so she could hear him.

Looking out the window opposite to her, Susan could see the shape of her father's manor and could even make out the faint glimmers from the golden window clasps and a few sills of crystal here and there. Yes, she was home, she was safe. Safe? Really? Well, she didn't know for sure but she could humor herself for now. For the drivers sake, she told herself, he seems nice, you don't want him thinking your in danger-or a lunatic, which is worse.

"Yes, sir, this is the place." Susan told him, opening the door and stepping down onto the familiar cobblestone street. "You should start back now if you mean to return to Telmar before dawn." She was trying to make her voice sound strong like that of the upper-lady she was pretending to be, trying to forget the tears in her golden dress which had been so lovely when she's started out earlier that evening and was now quite scrappy in appearance. Scrappy gold does look better than other scrappy clothing but not to the extent Susan would have preferred. It seemed the man was doomed to think of her as a mad woman in spite of her best efforts simply because she had, in her awkwardness, suggested he'd try to make it back before dawn. If the little streak of purple-red in the horizon turning the bottoms of the ebony-gray clouds a rosy-pink colour meant anything, he wouldn't make it more than a mile before dawn had officially arrived, putting an end to the night of the feast.

This man had his manners in him all the same-his mother must have taught him very well-because he tipped his hat and thanked her as formally as if she was a royal majesty before bidding her good-bye and flicking his whip lightly at the ponies to get them moving again.

Susan sighed and took in a deep breaths of the air that surrounded her, an air neither of night nor of day, not of morning, not of evening. It was somewhere in the middle. The night had not left it's darkness behind yet, just as she had not yet left behind her fear. Maybe, just maybe, when the sun rose again, this time would be different.

Could it happen that when she awoke this time, when the big stretch of darkness turned to light, her own pale, neither here nor there shadows of faint horror would leave her at long last? But how? She was a slave now, she realized sadly, she didn't know how to be free. She was like those prisoners of war, locked up for many, many, years long forgotten until suddenly, what's this? A new change of government sweeps the kingdom and bang! They're free! But they don't remember...they can only vaguely recall their lives before they were moved into the dungeon. Childhood sweethearts were only faint outlines, mother and father-oh yes, they do remember them but as if they had belonged to someone else, someone who no longer existed. But here's the men with the keys standing by the cells crying out, "Oh, look, you're free! Free as a bird! Fly, fly, fly!" And they want to fly, but they don't know how; they just can't seemed to remember. Their wings have been so broken and crumbled for so long; they never expected to use them again, they've forgotten. Susan was just like those men-those poor piteous prisoners-she didn't remember how to be happy or fearless.

Slowly, Susan's hand reached out and opened the front door. As soon as her foot reached over the smoothly polished cherry-wood threshold, she was suddenly engulfed by a strange feeling that she was wandering the ruins of an old castle or ghost town. There were no sounds; she could not sense the presence even of those servants who were always the last to bed and the first to rise. She walked through the main parlors without bothering to fumble about for a small oil lamp or candle to carry, she let her fingertips and the strange almost other-worldly air pushing its way through her breathing guide her. Up these stairs, down this hallway, through this corridor, passed this antechamber, then she was in front of a door she knew very well. The door to Peter's bed chamber.

She pressed her ear to the door, there was no sound of anyone attending to him, had everyone abandoned him for the night? Was he himself even there? Of course he couldn't get around very easily without her help so there weren't very many other places he could be...still, she feared entering the chamber and finding herself alone. Finding herself alone in her new world of freedom. Freedom was supposed to be blessing, why did it feel so very much like a terrible curse? Why wasn't it any different from being trapped? The door slid open with a light creak and Susan stuck her head in.

Peter wasn't gone after all, of course there had never been any reason he shouldn't have been there to start with. How silly she felt for thinking even for a moment that he would be gone! Rather than resting in his bed where she had left him, he was sitting on a small, three-legged stool with a woolen blanket wrapped around him in front of a dying fire. It had probably been lit hours before. His breathing was deep and his eyes were closed. He's asleep, she realized, peacefully asleep. He was still recovering but he looked almost-well at that moment.

Overcome with emotion and weariness, Susan walked over to the stool and collapsed on her knees beside her brother. Should she wake him and tell him she had returned? No, she decided, she wouldn't do that, not just yet. Let him sleep, let him rest, let him hope, leave him be. Bending her head down to the front of the stool, Susan sprawled out on the large rug under it and rested her head on Peter's feet, looking into the small black-and-yellow burning embers so close and warm but so distant and ready to fade as well.

The little piece of the lump of silence in Susan's throat that had not yet melted away vanished, thawed by the very last of her tears. She felt better now, safely resting by her elder brother's feet, he had always protected her and now that Miraz was gone, he could be free, too. They would always be there to look out for each other but they wouldn't have to do so in chains and irons; they could were being born anew, lighter hearts, more smiles, safer world, a new day.

A slight draft blew out all the embers but one, Susan focused her eyes on it, locked it in tightly; taking into her heart the moment when it, too, faded and was gone for ever, just like last night.

The sun rose, slowly casting a narrow stream of light through the gap in the dark curtains in the chamber, falling on Peter's eyelids and tickling them until he started to wake up. He wiggled his feet, gently shaking Susan awake. She let out a yawn, stretched her arms, and looked up at her brother.

"When did you get back?" He asked her, looking somewhere between bewildered and relieved. "Are you alright? How did it go? Did you talk to the prince? Did he-" Peter noticed the stricken, over-whelmed look on her face and stopped bombarding her with questions. He looked her up and down and was a little surprised at how different she looked. Her dress was crumbled, her cheek was cut, there were new bruises on her face that not been there when she'd left last evening, and she wore a strange expression on her face which, though not unreadable, was puzzling all the same. What exactly had happened to her last night?

"Miraz is dead." Susan said finally, scooting closer to her brother.

Peter bent down to touch the cut on her cheek, his eyes filling up with tears. "Oh, Su, did he hurt you again?" how could he have let his happen? How could he have put his dear sister in such danger? He'd known something like this might happen and he had just-oh, what a terrible brother he had been!

"It's alright, Peter." Susan whispered, taking his hand and gently pushing it away from her face because it was making her cut smart a little. "It's over. He's gone."

"But..." Peter shook his head, unable to take it in. "What happened?"

Susan replayed the image of Miraz looming above her before Eustace hit him with the shovel and her fate was changed-possibly for ever. All of the things he'd said, all those horrible things...no, Peter didn't have to know about them. If no one other than Eustace had heard him, his words would soon be forgotten. After telling Eustace everything and returning home safely, she didn't feel afraid anymore. Yes, it happened, Miraz had hurt her twice and nearly torn her family apart, there was no denying it, no hiding from it, but she didn't have to dwell on it anymore. It was time to let go and move on. At long last, the time for mourning was in the past and the present was one of healing.

"It doesn't matter." Susan told him. "Not anymore. But, just so you know, Alberta's son isn't dead after all."

"Are you alright?" Peter double-checked, his voice loaded with concern.

"You know what?" The corners of Susan's mouth turned up into their first untainted smile in many years. "I will be, I think."

"You think?"

Susan let out a soft sound somewhere between a short laugh of relief and a gentle sigh. "I hope."

"But Susan, you must tell me _something_!" Peter protested, realizing her silence was not completely out of fear he could break through, nor was it a passing moment after which she would tell him everything. "What did Caspian say? Did you get him to make the treaty? And Miraz, how did he..." He shook his head and sighed. "Susan, tell me the truth, am I dreaming?"

Susan rubbed her aching knees and stood up, walking over to the thick curtains in his window. With one steady move of her hand, she flung them open and the new morning sunlight filled every once-shadowy corner of the chamber.

Peter looked at her with his mouth slightly agape. His poor sister's appearance looked even more disheveled when shown in full light, but her face remained different, too, more like her old self; almost like the sister he could sort of remember from the days before she was kidnapped and their mother chose to end her life.

"Peter," Susan said, walking back over to the stool, bending down, and taking one of her brother's hands in her's reassuringly. "Listen to me, I don't know if last night saved the Narnians-I hope, but I don't truly know. I don't know anything anymore, everything's different now, I can't really explain it. In a strange way, I'm glad last night happened. I'm still scared, but like I said, it's different now."

"How did he go?" Peter asked, thinking of all of the horrible ways Miraz could have died, all being perfectly deserved.

Thinking of Eustace and wanting no one to know what he had done, lest he be punished for it, Susan shook her head again. "It doesn't matter." She reached up to her hair to grab the shimmering wreath that had once been Maugrim's collar and let out a slight gasp of dismay when she realized it wasn't there anymore. She must have lost it back in Telmar.

Peter, not the least bit concerned about the collar as opposed to what had happened to his sister last night, crinkled his forehead in confusion.

"Oh, Peter, I'm so sorry!" Susan exclaimed apologetically. "I've lost your silver circlet, the one you got from that wolf you killed."

"It's okay." Peter chuckled mildly. "Don't worry about it."

Suddenly, in the quietness of the house, Susan realized something else was missing, too. Why hadn't her little stepsister come in to see them? Wasn't she going to burst into the room and worry about why Susan's dress looked so torn and ask about the feast?

"Where's Lucy?" Susan asked.

"She's gone." Peter looked down at the cold, dead, ash-filled fireplace a few inches in front of him. "She left last night."

"Left?" Susan blinked in confusion, crinkling her brow. "Where did she go?"

"I guess it's like you said when she first moved in. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was meant for something better." Peter was sad that his dear little stepsister whom he had grown to love so deeply-maybe even more than his real sister though he would never say that out loud knowing it might hurt her feelings-had gone away, but he was also happy for her. Although his brotherly instinct at first flared up and wanted to keep her from leaving (she was so very young after all), he trusted Edmund and knew he'd take good care of her. Besides, Peter knew he'd be just as distraught at her leaving no matter what her age was. She could be forty and she'd still be 'little Lucy' to him. He wanted what was best for her and she would be sure to have a better life with her husband than with her cold-hearted mother eager to use her for her own gain.

"Helen?" Susan asked, wondering for a fleeting moment what had become of her stepmother.

Peter shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."

"Me either." Susan decided.

In the early morning sun in Telmar, Prince Caspian wandered the castle gardens alone. Because he wasn't watching where he was stepping, his foot went right into a muddy puddle created from the storm the night before. The edge of his boot struck against something bright and shinny, a silver circlet.

**AN: That's it for this chapter, please review. **


	44. The prince of Telmar comes to the manor

**AN: Hope you like this chapter, I worked really hard on it and I think it came out alright.**

When Susan had changed out of her golden dress and back into one of her regular plain black frocks, she went about the morning in her usual way. After the events of the previous night the routine felt sort of moot but she was certain she'd fall back into the swing of things sooner or later. After all, she was stronger now. As she would have on any other given day, she helped Peter downstairs to the dinning hall for breakfast.

Tumnus met them in the hallway and practically _pleaded_ with Susan to reassume her rights as the lady of the house, reminding her that now that Lucy was gone, if she refused her rights, it might very well go to Helen.

"Is she still here?" Peter's eyes widened a little in mild surprise.

"Probably getting ready to steal everything that isn't nailed down so she can run off somewhere as soon as the supposed Telmarines come, knowing her." Tumnus muttered, his eyebrows sinking deeply into his forehead with anger. "Good riddance, I say."

Susan couldn't help but be a little disappointed. Putting up with Helen in exchange for little Lucy's company was one thing but continuing to deal with that horrid woman after Lucy had grown and married and gone away was quite another. She found herself wondering for the thousandth time what it was her father had ever seen in Helen to begin with. He didn't love her, she knew that much-he very nearly hated her now, she was sure. What was wrong with that man? Yes, his wife had died but couldn't he have stayed strong for the children? Why did he have to leave their up bringing to each other and the servants and then years later bring in some beggar woman he didn't even like? Susan never could figure her father out, he was always something of a mystery to her, and probably, that was what he would always continue to be.

If Helen goes away then there is no lady of the house because I'm just the nursemaid, Susan thought, but if she stays she'll be a horrible tyrant to the servants-I can make sure she treats Peter with respect and possibly Tumnus as well but how could I protect the others?

She had already ruled out the option of 'taking back her rights' as Tumnus had put it, for she had long renounced them and had no intention of suddenly acting as if she had been going around in silks and satins all this time, pretending she wasn't still dressed in plain black at that very moment. Yes, she felt her life was being made anew but somehow she felt this wasn't the way it was supposed to go; she wasn't sure what, but she knew something else was in store for her somewhere.

Lord Pevensie did not arrive at breakfast, he had apparently eaten hours earlier (probably to avoid Helen) and so the only lady at the table was the cruel, sullen-eyed, stony-faced woman herself. She glanced up at Peter with a rather venomous expression as if she blamed him for Lucy's marrying Edmund and leaving home (if you can call a dark place full of secrets-no matter how grand-a home). To Susan, who helped Peter to his seat before quietly going over to stand with the other servants, she said nothing at all, simply blinking at her indifferently.

In such a manner, breakfast went by quickly and quietly and soon it was time for Susan to help her brother back to his chamber so he could rest. He was strong enough now that he could hold charcoal sticks and coloured pencils and rest a pad of paper on his lap again. So he as he rested in the bed, he worked busily on his first new drawing in a long time. Every half-hour or so when Susan would come in to check on him, she would peer over his shoulder but she couldn't quite figure out what image it was he was trying to capture. At first, she thought it was the mantel over the fire-place and it seemed as good and sensible a subject as any so she merely nodded and when back to work. But then the next time she looked at it, when she was bringing him up a glass of milk, it was coloured green, not the rich ebony-brown of the mantel and there seemed to be a hand or a paw or perhaps something with diadems on it. Staring too long made her eyes blur and gave her a headache, so she turned away and went back downstairs for a bit.

Thinking of everything and of nothing at the same time, Susan took a seat by a blackened fireplace in the servant's quarters downstairs. The room was spare and rather empty, anything that happened anywhere within the closest rooms, be they upstairs or downstairs, echoed down there. Because of this, Susan heard someone at the door. She heard her father answer it and she thought she heard Helen gasp and knew it must have been someone very important because Helen was blurting out compliments as if flattery was going out of style soon and had to be all used up to avoid the waste. As for herself, she didn't really care who it was, she had a lot to figure out and didn't have time for visitors. What was she going to do when Peter got better and didn't need her anymore? And what about the servants and Helen? What about her father?

"Susan?" A voice to the left of her, startled her and made her jump. Turning, she saw her father standing there.

"Hello, father."

"Susan, the prince of Telmar is here with your brother's circlet." Lord Pevensie said, his lower lip twitching with a mix of sadness, amusement, and admiration as he spoke. "I don't want to know what happened last night, nor do I feel I really have a right to know."

Susan looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Father, I-"

He held up his hand. "Please, listen to me, I know I haven't been a good father to you and though perhaps after today you will be able to cast me aside out of hatred, I ask that you continue to remember your brother-as you always have-and spare him."

At that, Susan leapt up and embraced her father tightly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I don't hate you."

"After all I've done?" With those words came water landing on Susan's shoulder which were not her own tears; Lord Pevensie was crying, too.

"We barely know each other anymore." Susan admitted, not without a great deal of sadness in her voice. "I don't know you...but I still want to."

"So do I, my daughter." Lord Pevensie said, embracing her again. "But tell me, has something happened? You're different."

"I cannot explain it." Susan smiled apologetically.

"Then don't try to." Lord Pevensie told her with a kind smile, reaching for her arm to lead her to the room where the prince was waiting.

Peter was already there, having been assisted down the stairs by Tumnus who-hearing that his master wanted to see the guest who had just arrived-was more than willing to help.

"Then this belongs to..._you_?" Caspian stammered in disbelief, handing the sliver wreath to the young man in front of him who had broken into at least three coughing fits in the last five minutes. How could this be? He could have sworn that the girl in the golden dress, his Narnian friend with the rose-window was the owner of the circlet-she had been wearing it the night before.

"I loaned it to my sister." Peter explained kindly, noticing the down-hearted look on Caspian's face. "Last night."

He smiled, looking quite relieved. "Good, because I've sworn to marry the Narnian who was wearing the circlet last night."

"Oh really?" Peter raised an eyebrow in a testing sort of fashion. "Thought of asking her?"

"Of course the vow is valid only if she'll have me." Caspian added quickly, not wanting the rather intense-looking son of a lordship to think he would even consider taking his sister by force.

Peter stared at him for a moment as if trying to figure out in a glance if this prince was worthy of his beloved sister-for someone as special as she was couldn't go to just anyone. He hadn't turned down training at Cair Paravel for nothing. Under such an intense stare, many men might have looked away as if they had something to hide; Caspian-though he looked rather uncomfortable at being summed up in one stern look-did not turn his head or even move his eyes.

"Begging your pardon, your majesty." Helen cut in, waving a hand close to the Telmarine prince's shoulder as if to pat it reassuring or to tap it to get his attention. "The maiden you have come to inquire about is not worthy of a prince, she's rather mad and she renounced her claim as lady of the house quite a good while ago, she's not suitable for a prince's bride or for a queen."

At that moment, Peter very nearly wanted to demand that Caspian marry his sister just to teach Helen a lesson but he gathered his senses before daring to say anything of the sort out loud. He glared at his stepmother indignantly. How dare that horrid wench say his brave, beautiful, intelligent sister who had been good and kind enough to look after him wasn't good enough for a prince? The prince would be _lucky _to wed her.

Unaffected by her stepson's anger, Helen prattled on. "I have a daughter, your majesty. She's a mite younger than you but a fine lady and very worthy of marriage to a royal. From the day she was born, people said she acted as if she had noble blood in her. She's not beautiful but I've been told she's nice to look at...this wonderful daughter of mine is currently off visiting, she does love to travel, but she'll return soon and then perhaps-"

"If and when she returns, she'll bring her _husband_ with her." Peter pretty much spat at Helen, shooting Caspian a, 'do you see what I have to put up with?' glance.

Forgetting herself, Helen slapped Peter across the face. He stumbled, still weak from his illness, he let out an almost unearthly wheeze-nearly sliding to the floor before Tumnus came over and helped him up onto a chair again.

Appalled, Caspian shuddered and shook his head at Helen in dismay. Leaning close to one of his boys-in-waiting, he whispered, "When we have those state dinners to try and convince the Telmarines that the Narnians are not a threat to us and are good and decent people, remind me not to invite that woman. The Telmarine lords would declare open war on the spot!"

"How dare you strike my brother!" A voice in the doorway from the other part of the house said. Susan stood there beside her father, still holding onto his arm, her eyes shooting flashes of hatred at Helen.

"It's you!" Caspian cried out excitedly, unable to help himself. He saw that she was dressed plainly, almost like a servant but he didn't really pay it much mind for he didn't care. He still thought she was amazing, no matter what she chose to wear.

Susan's expression softened when she saw the prince. "Hullo."

Peter rolled his eyes and handed Caspian back the silver wreath. "Here."

"May I?" Caspian lifted the wreath and motioned like he was going to place it on the crown of her head.

"Why have you come?" Susan asked coldly, though it was not the tone she intended.

"I have come to learn your name, so that I might thank the woman brave enough to save her people."

"Susan." She said, her voice barely a whisper. "Susan Pevensie."

He placed the circlet on her head. "Please, Lady Susan Pevensie," With that he knelt to the ground and looked up at her hopefully. "Will you marry me?"

"I can't marry _you_." Susan blurted out, unable to stop herself. He was the prince of Telmar and she was still trying to figure out what she was now that Miraz was finally gone. She was the reason his father had died, she was a nursemaid in the house a lord, she was the stepsister of a lady who'd run away with a knight. She could not marry the prince of Telmar! She just couldn't!

His face fell, clearly he was disappointed.

Helen pounced, daring to actually place her fingertips on the side of Caspian's right arm. "Well, see? She admits she is not the right one for you. As to my daughter, her marriage isn't even valid, she's getting an annulment soon and will need a real man to mar-"

"For Aslan's sake, Helen, shut up!" Lord Pevensie snapped, whacking his fist against the side of the wall out of frustration. "Just bloody shut up, alright?"

"I am trying to arrange a marriage for my daughter here!" Helen protested bitterly.

"She's already married!" Susan, Peter, Lord Pevensie, Tumnus, and the other servants who were above-stairs at the moment all shouted at once.

"Helen..." Peter hissed, rubbing his still-flaming cheek. "She's married. Build a bridge...and get over it!"

"Amen." Tumnus muttered.

"But Susan, why wont you marry me?" Caspian asked gently, eager to see if she was adamant or if she might be willing to reconsider.

Susan looked down at her feet. "We barely know anything about each other."

"We have the rest of our lives to find out." Caspian reminded her, with a hopeful smile.

"Your father is dead because of me." Susan whispered weakly.

"Oh, sweet!" Caspian exclaimed sadly, standing all the way up and taking her hands in his. "Is that what this is all about? You can't seriously blame yourself for _that_!"

"I-" Susan found she couldn't speak. "I-" she glanced over at Peter who mouthed, 'marry him'. Now she truly _was_ stunned! For her over-protective brother to want her to marry a suitor was no small thing. The words burst out of her. "Yes!"

"Yes?" Caspian was delighted.

With that, she leaned forward, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The servants, her father, and her brother all clapped and smiled. Helen pouted and sulked but no one took any notice of her; no one cared that she was upset, they were too forced on the new young royal couple.

"Oh, but what about Peter?" Susan gasped when they pulled away from the kiss. "Who will look after him?"

"I will pay for the finest doctors and nurses to look after him." Caspian announced proudly, snapping his fingers at his nearest boy-in-waiting so he could write it all down. "And by royal decree, as soon as he is well, I shall make him the third most powerful person in all of Telmar right after me and you."

"Then I suppose I really am free to marry you as I have just promised." Susan gave her consent in full now and allowed him to take her hand and lead her outside to his carriage.

Helen went after her pleading for royal treatments of money and jewels and titles. "I always liked you, as if you were my own daughter, Susan." She lied pathetically.

"Excuse me?" Susan looked down at her with a bored glaze-eyed expression, slamming the carriage door in her stepmother's face with a sharp _click_.

**AN: What did you think? Tell me! Please review.**


	45. New lives and Lions

**AN: Okay, WOW, I CANNOT believe this fic is over! I've been working on it for what feels like for ever. Gosh, I am really going to miss working on this story, it's been one heck of a ride! Anywho, cuz it's the last one, I thought it would be a good idea to end the story with a nice long chapter. I worked really hard on this and I really, really hope you all like how I decided to end it. **

With the passing of time, greatly assisted by the fact that both the new queen of Telmar and the third most powerful person in all of their kingdom-the queen's brother who had also become King Caspian's most trusted adviser-were Narnians, the tension Miraz had long been stirring up between Narnia and Telmar faded away almost until it was practically nonexistent in most parts of the land.

Peter still lived in Narnia in his father's manor with Lord Pevensie and, Yes, sadly, Helen but he spent such a great deal of time traveling back and forth to Telmar (after he had recovered from his illness, though still being more prone to catching cold than the average person) that he saw his stepmother infrequently enough that she couldn't bother him. Just as Susan and Lord Pevensie's relationship was being patched up, so was the relationship between Peter and Lord Pevensie. Past misgivings were all but forgotten and though Lord Pevensie didn't dare try to be a real father after all these wasted years, he did become something of a good friend to his son, which was most certainly a good start.

Peter also got to spend a lot of time studying art and medicine in both the Cair Paravel library and the slightly smaller one in the Telmarine castle. Because of his intense devotion to his studies, not to mention the skills he had long-ago acquired while caring for his sister, he was soon qualified as a physician of three royal courts (Telmar, Archenland, and Narnia) in addition to everything else he had accomplished.

Still, he was able to steal at least a few hours a day to devote completely to his drawings-usually in the early evening time when everyone around him got that sleepy look in their eyes and twilight ended the day in a soft, hazy cloud of purple light. When he finished the drawing he had started working on during the recovery from his illness, he presented it to his sister the Queen of Telmar as a belated wedding present.

Now Susan could tell what it was; a beautiful drawing done both in coloured pencils and in oils. A great golden Lion was standing on a large mantel-shaped amber-and-emerald green hill. Around him, drawn in deeper, more intense colours were faces Susan could only identify as her own family. A young girl's face bore a strong resemblance to Lucy, a young man pale with illness reminded her very much of Peter himself, and she saw her own face and saw she was wearing both the silver circlet and a golden Telmarine crown.

"Oh, Peter, it's beautiful!" She had exclaimed, embracing her brother tightly and planting a kiss on his cheek. "I absolutely love it."

In all honestly, Susan was glad that he hadn't finished it in time for the wedding. It had been such a busy day full of hustle and bustle and so many bothersome plans and rituals. There'd had to be two ceremonies, one Narnian, one Telmarine, to satisfy both parties. Then, the seamstresses had gotten into a rather nasty argument (more like a brawl, actually) over who was working the hardest on their queen-to-be's wedding gown and they had walked off the job. Peter and a few volunteers willing to work with him having to step in and finish it.

And there had also been some controversy over who was going to give the bride away. Susan wanted it to be Peter-not that she didn't want her father to be part of the wedding, she just felt Peter had more of a right to fatherly duties than Lord Pevensie did-and the Telmarines said it was rather unorthodox and her real father would have to be the one to give her away and to please stop fussing about it. In the end, it was settled that for the Narnian ceremony, Peter would give her away but Lord Pevensie could do the honours during the Telmarine one so everyone was satisfied (Well except for Helen who spent _both_ ceremonies hissing, "Isn't this the most ridiculous marriage you've ever seen?" to which Lord Pevensie hissed back, "No, ours is, now for the love of all that is good and holy, hush!").

After the exhausting ceremonies were completed, there had been so many presents for the young rulers that Peter's (who's gift was clearly the most thought-out and sentimental) might have easily gotten lost in the shuffle had he finished it on time-not to mention the beauty of it would have been droned out by the sound of clapping following the court musician apprentice sort of fellow (Eustace) proposing to Lady Jill while her twin sister sobbed into a handkerchief bawling about how beautiful it all was.

Yes, Susan was more than thrilled that it had turned out the way it had. She must have spoken that last thought out loud because Peter blinked at her in confusion, not quite knowing what she was talking about and asked, "How what turned out?"

Susan smiled a quiet, sleepy, peace-at-last sort of smile and murmured, "Everything, every little bit of it all." she looked out the window and saw her husband in the garden talking with Tumnus, Lord Pevensie, and a few Telmarine courtiers, they were laughing happily and there was clearly no tension between the two races. "Yes, every wonderful turn of events."

One morning on a day when Peter was home in Narnia and not off visiting Susan and Caspian in Telmar or at Cair Paravel dealing with matters of state as all knights of importance often did, he sat down at the breakfast table beside his father, in a rather cheerful mood.

"Father, what do you think of Maid Marjorie?" He asked rather causally as he picked at the plate of scrambled eggs Tumnus-who was not bothered too greatly by Helen because Lord Pevensie would not allow it-had set down in front of him.

"You mean that nice lass who works at the inn?" Lord Pevensie asked curiously, wondering what his son was getting at.

"Yes, her." Peter nodded.

"Oh, well, I think she's a very fine young lady." Lord Pevensie shrugged, getting back to eating his breakfast.

"Good, good." Peter was unable to repress the smile he'd been holding in any longer. He paused for a moment before going on, "Because I asked her to marry me and she said yes."

Lord Pevensie smiled at his son in approval. "I'm happy for you, when's the wedding?"

"Soon." Peter said monosyllabically with his mouth full.

Helen, not sure whether she was most upset about Peter talking with his mouth full or about her stepson-the last child she had a chance to benefit off of-was marrying that yellow-haired, tavern-wench her daughter used to be friends with, frowned at him. She dared not say anything because she feared that Lord Pevensie might consider seeking to divorce her, even though it was costly and troublesome, after all these years and did not wish to encourage such thoughts, lest she be back out on the street without even a daughter to use as bait for food and shelter.

Noticing Helen's rage and discomfort, Peter's smile widened and his eyes twinkled with mischief. He turned to his father and raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'Can we do it now?' and Lord Pevensie winked at him.

"Oh, did you hear the news?" Peter said in a pretend-uppity voice.

"Why no, son, I did not." Lord Pevensie widened his eyes with faux-innocence and said each word as if he was trying desperately to recall a script from a play he was going to perform in. "Whatever could this news of yours be? After that last announcement, I simply cannot guess!"

After making sure that Helen was paying close attention to them so that their brilliant performance wasn't for naught, Peter went on. "I'm sure Digory Kirke must be _ecstatic_."

"What do you mean?" Helen blurted out, unable to help herself. After all Digory was the grandfather of that horrid boy who had come and taken her only daughter away without even so much as a bride-price for all of her troubles in raising the girl by hand. She didn't want him to be happy and she most certainly did not want him to be 'ecstatic'.

"Well, he's going to-" Peter waited for a moment as Helen lifted her morning cup of juice to her lips. "-be a great grandfather, his grandson's wife is with child."

Helen choked on her sip of juice and spat it out very ungracefully all over the table cloth. Her daughter was pregnant with that horrid boy's child? No!

"Heh heh, ha..." Lord Pevensie burst into hysterical laughter and reached over to high-five his son. "Helen, you should have seen the look on your face!" He slapped the table with his fist, trying-and failing-to slow down the longest laugh he'd had since his beloved first wife had died.

Daring to let her expression soften just a little, she asked, "Then it was a trick? A jest?"

"Well, yes and no." Lord Pevensie explained with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "We did that to get back at you for what you said to your poor daughter when you thought her beau had died in the raid at the Telmarine castle; however, the news we used to do it with is true. Peter got word from Edmund a few days ago, our little Lucy is indeed with child."

A few dozen miles from Lord Pevensie's manor, in the Narnian countryside, lived a very wealthy elderly couple who were very patriotic and had raised all their children, young cousins, nephews, and nieces to be the same. Their elegant home was a slightly-smaller, somewhat cruder, imitation of the great castle of Cair Paravel they admired so deeply; it was even furnished to match the decor that the royals of the country they loved so dearly would sit upon. So, it was no surprise then that when a young knight, Sir Edmund Kirke, and his pretty little wife, Lucy, arrived seeking a place to stay, they were welcomed in with open arms the very second they saw the image of the Lion on Edmund's shield.

The whole family was of course thirsting for stories about the situation at Cair Paravel and how the situation with Telmar was being resolved (for people who adored their capital with as deep a passion as they apparently did, they lived awfully far from it and had to rely on travelers to get the news they longed for) and gaped at Edmund with surprised delighted-horror as he recounted his raid in the castle. When they asked how he had escaped with his life, he was-much to their deep disappointment-quite vague with details and attributed most of his success to his love for his dear sweet wife.

The younger ladies of the household loved the story of how he and Lucy had met and fallen in love through their long-term friendship and how they had over-come all of the obstacles that Lucy's mother had thrown their way almost as much as the occasional tales of knights Edmund was able to share with them without breaking the knight's code.

Both because of Lucy's general sweet nature and because she was the wife of a Knight, the wealthy family treated her as if she was a queen. Few _princesses_ were dressed in as much gold-thread and velvet finery as they pilled upon Lucy in heaps and piles as if they were as ordinary as cotton blankets. In fact, it rivaled even the fine wardrobe prepared for Susan and she actually _was_ a queen!

When Edmund announced that his wife was going to have a child, they swarmed around her like a flock of servants eager to do her biding constantly asking if there was anything she needed and if there was something they could do to make her sitting-in months more resting when they came.

Months later, Lucy wandered the apple orchard that was in the back of the family's manor. She was, of course, not unescorted due to the fact that she was by this point so dramatically pregnant that the servants and friends who waited on her hand and foot were worried she might go into labor at any given moment and didn't want to leave her alone in case of emergency. She didn't mind so much-even if it could get a little over-whelming at times-she rather liked the company for the most part.

The sun shown brightly on a small, russet apple swaying in the faint breeze from one of the lower branches as a teeny drop of water from the rain that had come the night before slid down it. Rather than wait to have sixteen young ladies trample each other in an attempt to pluck it for the knight's pregnant wife, Lucy reached up and grabbed it herself quickly before anyone could stop her. Cleaning it off on the sleeve of her ruby-coloured dress, she put the fruit to her lips. Her teeth barely broke into the apple's skin when she let out a cry, dropped it on the ground, and put her hands to her round belly.

"Lady Lucy?" The ladies of the house who were with her as well as several servants, maids, butlers, stable-hands, horse-grooms, gardeners, and visiting friends of the family were instantly at her side.

Lucy opened her mouth and let out a whimper. Suddenly she was in an awful lot of pain; she hadn't hurt this bad from the inside out since that horrible day when her mother had tried to make her wear a corset. Thinking about the corset reminded her of how Edmund had saved her, which reminded her that she wanted him with her now.

"Edmund..." she managed to blurt out, shooting a desperate, though slightly apologetic, glance at the lady nearest to her on the left.

"Don't worry, my lady." A kind elderly woman who had once been a sort of nanny to the girls in the household when they were little but was now just like any other member of the family because they no longer needed a nanny and they couldn't bear to send her away, said. "Your husband can't be far off, we'll send for him at once." She waved her hand at one of the youngest lasses. "You," She ordered. "Send for her ladyship's husband at once."

Lucy blacked out after that; too many people, too much pain, too much confusion and fuss, the world was swimming in bright rainbow-coloured swirls before her eyes as she blinked rapidly in a blind attempt to clear them. She did have a vague sense of being lifted and saying "Ow!" a few hundred times while holding onto her belly, but other than that it was all a blur up until she found herself on a large bed in a fine chamber with the curtains all drawn and several nervous faces peering down at her eagerly. At first, they were just any faces, she couldn't identify anyone personally. Then, after a few more rounds of blinking and squinting she managed to identify the elderly woman closest to her and the figure coming through the doorway, A tall young man with dark hair and a concerned expression on his face.

"Edmund!" She cried out happily, having been a little worried that he wasn't going to make it. For all she knew, he could have been out riding and not have gotten the message until it was too late. Thankfully, that wasn't the case and he had arrived and he was rushing over to her side as quickly as his legs would carry him.

"Lucy," He said breathlessly, taking one of her hands while a pug-faced, but sweet-hearted, midwife instructed his wife to breathe deeply and push.

"I am pushing and breathing," Lucy snapped in-between groans, squeezing her husband's hand a little tighter. "If I wasn't, I'd be dead!"

"It's alright, I'm here." Edmund said, thinking, how as her grip tightened even more, that he had permanently lost all feeling in that hand. Oh well, it wasn't as if he wouldn't have been willing to cut it off for her benefit if the necessity ever rose so a little numbness wasn't too bad in the end, even if it did sort of make him want to whimper a little.

Beads of sweat rolled down Lucy's face from the top of her forehead to the tip of her chin. She let out three short yelps and pushed harder; following was a loud scream that didn't sound like her at all and then another moan. It took four hours for the baby to come and when it finally arrived, Lucy felt flushed and weak.

She managed to murmur, "Boy or girl?" as the world around her grew dimmer and her eyes shut half-way.

"Girl." They told her in a soothing whisper while Edmund leaned down and gently kissed her forehead.

"Merci Rose." Lucy's voice wavered and was so low they couldn't hear her very clearly.

"What?" Edmund's brow crinkled.

"For a name." Lucy clarified, smiling weakly. "I was thinking, 'Merci Rose'."

"Merci Rose it is." Edmund told her, tears filling his eyes.

"Don't cry, Ed." Lucy whispered, feeling hot tears prick her eyes, too.

He couldn't help it, it was a very emotional moment. He'd just become a father for one; and for another, Lucy looked so weak. He didn't want to think about it, he didn't even want to consider the possibility, but he couldn't get the thought out of his mind. _What if she doesn't make it, what if I lose her?_

A middle-aged noblewoman placed Merci Rose into her mother's frail arms so she could at least get the chance to hold her daughter once... before she...if she...well, if she died.

"Is she healthy?" Lucy whispered anxiously, more concerned about the pale-skinned little buddle in her arms looking up at her and making funny gurgling noises than she was about herself.

"She's in perfect health, my lady." One of the midwives assured her, fighting back a lump forming in their throat.

Lucy's flushed face looked a little more relaxed when she heard that. Her eyes flickered over to her husband. "She looks like you, Ed."

She actually did look quite a bit like her father, especially around the eyes but what Edmund noticed right away was that she had her mother's lips and her mother's smile to go along with it. She was a beautiful baby with pale rosy skin and several sweet-looking dimples.

"Here." Lucy used the little bit of strength she could spare to scoot up and place the baby in Edmund's arms. "You take her for a while."

Over the next few days, as Lucy grew paler and weaker even than seemed possible, and worries about her health became grave to the extent that everyone spoke about her only in whispers as if speaking any louder would push her over the threshold of death's door, it was decided that they send for a young royal physician who had recently saved the life of the most sickly baroness Archenland had ever known and somehow managed to get her healthier than she had ever been in her life.

"He's young," The servant who recommended him had whispered. "Quite young. His wife's younger still, but that doesn't change raw talent. Everyone loves him."

"Are you sure he's honourable?" Edmund had asked worriedly. He'd heard of horrible so-called witch-doctors who could heal but also harm in ways he knew he didn't want his wife to be involved in.

"Tis not a worry!" The servant assured him heartily. "This man is a royal counselor and a knight besides. Worry not, Sir Edmund. If anyone can save your wife, it is him."

If he gets here before it's too late, Edmund thought heart-brokenly. "Then send for him right away."

The physician and his wife arrived in a small, dark carriage with royal flags in truce colours attached to it. As soon as the young wife stepped out and glanced about at the massive manor looming in front of her, Edmund let out as gasp. He _knew_ that young woman!

"Marjorie?" His eyes widened with deep surprise.

"Edmund Kirke, is that you?" She asked, looking just as shocked as he was, if not more so.

"Edmund?" The physician himself stepped out of the carriage; it was Peter!

"Peter?" He gasped unable to believe his eyes.

Suddenly something inside Peter's mind clicked and he shuddered at the realization. "You're the knight who's wife's dying?"

Edmund's eyes filled with tears again. "Yes."

"Lucy..." Peter had come at urgent request to heal a knight's wife but he hadn't known the patient in question was his own little stepsister Lucy. There hadn't been any return addresses on the letters he'd gotten from them because they had been worried about Helen snooping around Peter's room when he was at Lord Pevensie's manor and perhaps finding out where they lived so he hadn't been aware of identity of the dying woman until now.

Edmund gulped and nodded, unable to stop the stream of tears that now flowed down his cheeks. "She's so weak, Peter." He sobbed, ignoring the fact that the majority of the household was staring at him watching snot drip out of his nostrils. "I don't know what to do."

Peter grabbed his medicine bag. "Take me to her."

"Peter?" Lucy mumbled, blinking at the familiar figure that lowered himself next to her.

"Yes, Lucy, it's me." He told her, gently squeezing one of her hands reassuringly. "I'm here to help you."

"Have you seen the baby yet?" Lucy asked him curiously.

"Not yet." Peter forced a chuckle so as not to scare her, she was being very brave after all. "But I'm sure she's lovely, everyone talks about her as if she was a female Aslan."

The corners of Lucy's mouth turned up. "She's wonderful. Her name's Merci Rose and she looks just like Edmund. Oh, Peter, she's the sweetest thing..."

While he listened to her prattle on like the proud mother she was, Peter took some herbs and medicines out of his bag and mixed them into a golden-rimmed tea cup one of the ladies of the house had brought up for Lucy. He handed the cup to her having to hold her hands in his while she brought it to her mouth because she wasn't strong enough to hold it up herself. Managing to mask his fear at her fragile state, Peter took a deep breath and told her she would need to drink the special tea four to five times a day at the very least to keep up her strength.

For the following week or so, it was very touch-and-go as far as Lucy's health was concerned. Some days she seemed like a candle ready to go out, an ember on it's last flame of life and other's she was a little stronger and they had hope that she was perhaps getting better. Edmund was beside himself with grief and spent much of his time outside her door and the door to the nursery where the perfectly happy and healthy baby had been put during the day although they placed her in a cradle near her mother's bedside at nighttime, pacing back and forth. Peter had this or that new medicine that they could try but by the dark, red-and-black rings forming around his eyes, Edmund could tell he was getting near his wit's end and was full of desperation.

One morning, after a night when they had been particularly worried about Lucy slipping away on them without warning, Edmund, Peter, and Marjorie opened the door to her bed chamber and saw a very surprising sight indeed. Curled up on the large bed beside her, was a large golden Lion, breathing on her gently and nuzzling her softly with the velvety tip of his nose. Lucy was reaching up and stroking his soft mane from time to time, looking more relaxed and strong than she had been for a very long while.

"Greetings, Aslan." Peter said, bowing respectfully. At his right side, Edmund bowed, too. Marjorie curtsied perfectly and smiled up at the great golden creature.

"Hullo, Peter." Aslan gave Lucy one last gentle nudge before climbing off the bed and padding over to the doorway. "Hullo, Edmund." He glanced over at Marjorie. "Hullo, Marjorie."

"Aslan," Edmund blurted out, unable to help himself. "Will she be alright?"

Aslan smiled at him and his golden brow turned downwards into what Peter thought might have been a sort of wink. "I believe so, if Peter keeps taking care of her as he as been, she will heal."

Edmund's face showed such intense relieved that Aslan himself had tears in his eyes from being so deeply moved by it. He placed a golden paw on his right shoulder and leaned close to him. His whiskers tickled the side of Edmund's cheek as he whispered, "Your wife _will _be alright, Edmund."

Each day after that, they watched their dear Lady Lucy grow stronger and rosier-faced every time they went to check on her. She smiled more frequently; soon she could even lift up her own tea cup without help from Peter or Edmund. She often was able to stroll down to the nursery in the mid-afternoon when her strength was at its best and hold her baby for a little while and sing songs to her and tell her wonderful stories.

Soon, her husband-who had been sleeping in another room while she recovered-was able to return to her bed. He embraced her tightly and kissed her lips and whispered, "Oh, Lu, I was so afraid I might have lost you."

Lucy stroked his left cheek tenderly. "Oh, my poor Edmund."

Her head rested on his shoulder and they drifted off to sleep. If they had looked out their window before nodding off into the land of dreams, perhaps they might have seen the great Lion Aslan himself on a not-so-distant hill, just like the ones in Lucy's dreams, watching over them and their little daughter.

-The End-

**AN: (Bounces up and down excitedly) Whatja think? Tell me! tell me! Please review! I want to know how you liked the ending! Please review!**


	46. DELETED SCENES

**AN: In writing this fic, a couple of scenes didn't make the final cut. Here are some of them.**

**Deleted Scene one: This takes place after "The Corset incident" Here is an extented bit of Helen trying to convice Lord Pevensie not to buy swords from Digory anymore. As you can see it is a bit much for something we could basicly sum up in passing and it was taking a bit long to get back to the parts of the fic that really mattered.**

"You want me to _what_?" Lord Pevensie's eyebrows remained dead in the middle of his forehead, neither up nor down, as if they were debating over whether they should sink inwards from confusion or rise up in surprise.

Helen's expression remained placid but her tone was full of venom as she causally stabbed a lettuce leaf with her fork and brought it up to her lips. "I want you to find a new sword maker so we don't have to associate with Digory and Edmund any longer."

"Helen," Lord Pevensie sighed, reaching across the super table for a roll. "Digory Kirke is the finest sword maker I've ever made investments with. Haven't you noticed the rich quality of his blades? Our wedding gift alone-"

"All that's very well and good." Helen cut in tersely. "But the _people _involved are what matters the most and clearly Digory does not teach his grandson anything about decency or morals."

"What exactly is all this jaw and hubbub about, Helen?" Lord Pevensie leaned onto his hand and rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

"That son of his is clearly not a respectable member of society and Digory tends only to pass the test of civilized living by a hair."

"Please say what you mean or don't say it at all." Lord Pevensie said wearily. Who would have thought a new wife would be so hard to please? When he'd asked her to marry him, he had assumed she would be glad enough to have an enormous pretty house to live in, lovely clothing to wear, and the finest foods to eat. So why was it that she never seemed happy? Why was there always something else she wanted from him? Do this, do that, change this, don't do that, don't let your son/daughter say this, make them say that...ugh...did it never end?

**Deleted Scene two: Here is an early idea which I ended up not going with in the process of writing this story. In it, Eustace does in fact turn into a dragon and he rampages through Narnia. It didn't work out in the end so I cut it and came up with a different side-plot and fate for Eustace. Anywho, this scene would have come in the middle of chapter 25 (Love comes suddenly) right after Lucy says, "You're capable of doing that all by yourself" if I had decided to keep it in. **

She ducked down so that she could shake her mother's hand away from her and dash back towards the house. Once she reached the glass door though, she saw Peter running towards her.

"Lucy!" He exclaimed, grabbing her right hand and pulling her down the hall. "Come quick, you've got to see this."

Helen lifted her skirt so she wouldn't trip over the hems as she followed them to see what all the excitement was about. When they reached the window by the front door, Susan, Edmund, and Lord Pevensie (Who happened to have returned early from an investment meeting) were standing there, looking out at something in amazement.

"What's going on?" Helen demanded, upset that Edmund hadn't left yet.

"It's a dragon." Lord Pevensie told her. "Outside in the street."

"A dragon?" Lucy gasped, coming forward and leaning closer to the window. "A real one?"

"You mean all this commotion is because some giant lizard is outside?" Helen huffed at her husband. "Honestly, one would think-"

"Hush, Helen." Lord Pevensie said, not unkindly. "It's certainly not something you see every day."

"The children should be at their lessons." She protested.

Edmund scooted over so that Lucy could see out the window. There _was_ a real dragon. He was one of the most remarkable looking creatures Lucy had ever seen before. His green-blue scaly skin was like that of a fish crossed with a long smooth snake. His nose was a soft gray colour with a dark ebony black burnt sort of tint at the tips. His out-stretched wings were thick and purple-black. What struck her the most about him was that he didn't have ruby-red eyes the way Lucy had always been told dragons did. They were the normal, pale blue that any human might have.

"My question," Helen said testily. "Is why that thing is being allowed to parade around here as if he owned the place instead of getting a knight's sword through its side." She looked at Edmund when she said it, half-hoping that he'd go out and get eaten by the scaly beast.

**AN: Feel free to leave a review if you have any comments about the deleted scenes. I'd love to hear your thoughts. **


End file.
